Curiosity Killed the Cat
by Rayniekinnz
Summary: 'Harry, angry and hurt, is wandering the edge of the Forbidden Forest when he stumbles across some kind of Dark ceremony. Startled, the circle swerve their spell towards him and he is forcibly transformed into a creature thought to be myth. He is abandoned and sold, without a hope, and finds comfort in an unlikely source.' LM/HP. Slash. M - Language. COMPLETE.
1. Original One-Shot

Edit, 2015: This is a fairly old story, stylistically-wise and just... old. I wouldn't trust the SPaG and the OOCness is a bit (a lot) cringy, but I've decided to keep it up (for now). Keep these things in mind when reading.

* * *

Original notes:

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS MENTIONED HERE. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO J.K ROWLING.  
Summary: **'Harry, angry and hurt, is wandering the edge of the Forbidden Forest when he stumbles across some kind of Dark ceremony. Startled, the circle swerve their spell towards him and he is forcibly transformed into a creature thought to be myth. He is abandoned and sold without a hope and finds comfort in an unlikely source.'  
**Category: **Romance/Hurt&amp;Comfort  
**Warnings/tags:** Slash/Preslash. Language. AU/AR – No Voldemort. OOC.  
**Pairings:** Lucius/Harry.

**A/N:**

**Shouldn't be taken too seriously - just a fun little story I decided to continue from a oneshot c:**

* * *

**Original One-Shot**

Harry yawned, tongue curling and claws digging into the settee as he stretched out his small, lean body. He purred happily to himself, kneading the worn leather before wiggling his tail and hopping onto the carpeted floor. It was getting dark and he didn't want Lucius to find him enjoying the furniture instead of shredding it – his view of the Malfoy patriarch may have softened somewhat, but that didn't mean he was about to roll over like a good kitty and ask for a tummy-rub!

…although that did sound good right about now…

He shook himself off, padding across the sitting room to peak into the hallway. He had chosen that part of the Manor for its silence, but he knew even if it wasn't used much House-Elves still did their rounds and made sure it sparkled like new. Tibby was friendly and happy to help, perhaps a little like Dobby, but he was loyal to Lucius first and wouldn't think anything wrong about dragging him back to the blonde's quarters, hissing and biting all the way.

"—Dipsy saws him go this way!"

Harry flinched, withdrawing back into the shadows of the cosy sitting room as Tibby and Dipsy passed the partially open doorway. They paused just outside, but continued after a moment, whispering to each-other. He cocked his head to the side, listening intently as they discussed all of his hiding places and how long they had before Lucius got impatient and punished them. He felt bad, ears drooping slightly and sighed to himself – could cats even sigh? He didn't think so.

He waited until their footsteps were inaudible before darting down the fire-lit passages, dodging droopy plants and pausing only to claw some expensive-looking tapestries. He liked pissing off the pompous arse.

The cat-like creature slowed as voices filtered through the hall, fixing his run into a haughty stride as he passed through the arched doorway of the main and completely pretentious sitting-room. A fire was lit in the centre of the expensively-decorated room, a shiny dark-wood coffee-table exactly a foot away from the flames and surrounded by couches and an over-stuffed arm-chair. Daunting portraits and land-scape paintings decorated the crimson walls where tapestries had been prohibited.

"Merlin! Is that a_ Werecat_?!"

Harry preened smugly, jumping onto the cushion set aside just for him next to Lucius' favourite wing-backed chair. He settled down, blinking lazily at the family of three gaping openly at him.

Lucius smirked, looking every bit the conceited Lord he was rumoured to be. "Indeed, Mr Johnson. Tempest came into my possession not too long ago – originally a birthday present for my son, actually. Quite expensive, but certainly worth every Galleon."

The man, Mr Johnson, floundered uselessly for a moment before fixing his expression – quite badly – into one of disinterest. "Oh? Yes, I would think so. I-I saw quite a few during my stay in Egypt! Y-yes, expensive…"

Lucius' smirk only widened, eyes glittering with glee as he thought of all the ways he could catch the man out on his blatant lie. Had he even _been_ to Egypt?

Harry purred, tail swishing lazily as he recognised the blonde's expression. He could stand being gawped at if only to get the satisfaction of Lucius turning his 'guests' into puddles of sobbing, jealous goo.

Tibby popped into the room then, bowing quickly to Lucius and the Johnsons'. "Dinner is served!"

Harry mewed happily, darting past the Johnsons' daughter and down the passage. He wasn't allowed to eat at the table when guests were over, which he could understand, although it annoyed him as he liked listening to Lucius' drawling voice talk about his day and the idiots in the Ministry. He had thought the man was insane at first, talking to him as if he would answer back and briefly entertained the thought that Lucius was just incredibly lonely, but soon got over the strangeness of it all and found himself looking forward to their 'conversations'.

And then he learned Lucius was taking the piss out of him.

Pompous arse.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Vanilla Ice

**April 3, 1996**

Harry grumbled to himself, curling up tighter and trying to ignore the other animals squawking, growling and squeaking for attention.

He was in his own enclosure – it was a wire-cage with some straw on the bottom, really – but the shop was so cram-packed he felt as if he couldn't breathe without another creature being there to congratulate him. The air left his tiny lungs in a huff.

Dumb shady animal-dealer.

Dumb animals being dealt.

Dumb Malfoy doing business in a shady—whoa! _Malfoy?!_

His eyes practically bulged and he jumped to his feet – all four of them. Pressing up against the door, he rubbed his furred cheek against the wire and mewled pitifully, hoping the man would take notice in him.

Fate must have taken pity on him then as a pair of storm-grey eyes swept over a broad shoulder, corn-silk hair fluttering around his face in silky waves. Lucius raised an eyebrow and turned back to the dealer, speaking quietly.

Harry scowled – as much as a cat could – and turned his arse on the two men, making a show of lying back down on the straw. Stupid Malfoy. Still, he couldn't help listening in as they conversed.

"…too much, even for a man such as yourself!"

"Did I _ask_ your opinion?"

"F-forgive me!"

He purred quietly, glad someone was putting the idiot into his place. The few days he had been in the store were filled with the man simpering and haggling customers, handling the animals as if they were dirt on the bottom of his shoe rather than the Galleons that put his dinner on his table.

"I want to have a look before I decide," Lucius said in that haughty voice of his, tapping the floor with his snake-cane. "Take him out."

"Y-yessir! Right away!"

He squeaked indignantly as the door to his cage was suddenly yanked open, growling when a meaty hand was thrust inside. Alas, there was only so much room and he was caught by the hind-legs, not strong enough to drag himself back inside.

He was contorted into all sorts of positions, although the most embarrassing was when his soft belly was exposed to the straight-faced Malfoy.

"He seems a little small, no? How old is he?"

"Er…still a baby, we think…"

"You don't know?"

Harry shivered at the dangerous, silky tone. Nevertheless, he had a better chance of getting back to Hogwarts or his parents if Lucius bought him.

He gagged slightly. That sounded _so_ wrong on _so_ many levels.

"He came in suddenly, Mr Malfoy, sir. I have no idea where he came from or who bred him."

"Hmm…"

Harry tried to hold off his anger and embarrassment, making his eyes wide and pitiful. 'Please buy me!' he thought fiercely. 'I need to get out of this place!'

"I'll take him."

* * *

When you thought about the Malfoys', it was more often than not that they were associated with money and riches [and Dark extracurricular activities…but that's neither here nor there at this point] and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy II was more than happy to fuel this connotation.

His father had been a rather simple man, never quite interested in his appearance other than to make sure he looked as Lord Malfoy should but he had never forced this way of thinking on his son – or, you could say he may not have been generous with himself, but his only son deserved to be spoiled.

Somewhere far away, the rotting corpse of Abraxas was face-palming, bemoaning his _many_ parenting mistakes.

Lucius hummed quietly to himself, idly browsing dingy shop-windows as he passed through Knockturn Alley. His snake-cane thrummed warmly in his grasp, reminding him constantly someone had his back, if only figuratively.

He paused, backing up a few steps in the most dignified way he knew how. Peering through dust and grime, he spotted the thing that had caught his attention. Grey eyes widened, pouty lips parting in a small 'O'.

Was that a _Werecat_?

It couldn't be – they were extinct! And yet there one was, curled up in a rusty wire cage and looking absolutely miserable. It was small, probably only eleven inches standing up, with sleek black fur and the characteristically larger-than-proportional ears.

It was a split-second decision, rash and very un-Slytherin-like, but he refused to just walk away. Straightening up and wiping imaginary dirt from his sleeve, Lucius spun gracefully on his heel and pushed the door open with the bottom of his cane.

He would have the miserable ball of fur for his own.

* * *

Harry had surprisingly and fortunately not been put back into the bloody cage but instead was gently tucked into Malfoy's inner-breast pocket. He had been uncomfortable at first, but was lulled into a light doze by the steady beating of the blonde's heart. And that scent! He couldn't describe it…it was crisp but sweet…like vanilla ice.

He had immediately decided this whole cat-thing was messing with his brain. Denial wasn't just a river in Egypt, you know.

He was quickly distracted from his traitorous thoughts when he heard Malfoy's heart stutter.

"Six _hundred_?"

"It's a rare species," the shop-keeper practically purred. "I did say—"

"They're normally so much more expensive," Lucius purred back, biting back a snarl. He pulled a small black book from his pocket, snatching a quill from the desktop and scrawling down the amount and his signature. He tore the page off and held it out to the shop-keeper.

The man seemed to have a hard time breathing, staring at the cheque in shock before snatching it up and disappearing into the back.

Harry was still trying to get over the fact that he was worth _six hundred Galleons_. And Lucius _still_ bought him!

He could handle this, if only because he felt bad – the Malfoys' were rich, yes, but he was pretty sure they didn't flush their money down the toilet like the Dursleys!

* * *

'What was I thinking?!' Harry hissed to himself, eyes wide and heart thumping erratically in his delicate rib-cage. 'He looks as if he's going to eat me for dinner!'

Indeed, Lucius was staring at him with an intense sort of hunger, lips pulled into a smirk that showed off his slightly-pointed eyeteeth. Spying the kitten's panic, he raised an eyebrow and sat back, crossing his leg and lacing his fingers together.

Fleetingly, Harry thought he looked rather…_beautiful_. In a dark, aristocratic kind of way.

Shaking his head, he was brought back to his previous terror when the blonde narrowed his eyes curiously, reaching out a hand as if to grab him. He reared back, growling and swiping his paw-full of claws threatening; mentally cheering himself on and making a run for it when he managed to catch the side of the man's wrist.

Lucius made a strange grunting sound, a gasp of surprise whistling through his teeth when he saw blood, but he dived for his wand and hit the cat before he'd even made it for the door. "_Ungrateful little wretch!_" he hissed, grabbed the petrified animal by the scruff of its neck and holding it before his face, scowling.

Staring into terrified amber eyes, however, his resolve softened and he sighed irritably, gripping the kitten more firmly around the abdomen and reversing the spell with a silent warning in his heated gaze: he wouldn't be so kind next time.

Harry went limp in his hand, anger and fear swirling around his belly and making him feel sick. Briefly, he thought about puking all over Lucius' expensive robes, but let the thought go and decided to play it safe until he had a clear escape route.

He had a feeling it would be a while before Malfoy trusted him not to run off.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	3. Bonding

**7 April, 1996**

_Werecats._

_Found all over the world, they are rare creatures and thought to be extinct, claims of sightings recorded every day, although often mistaken for typical domestic cats. They are thought to be indigenous to Europe, although this is a controversial thought as the term 'werecat' varies in significance from place to place. Africa, Asia, South and North America – men and women shifting into the form of a leopard, tiger or panther; shape-shifting demons brother to the _Kitsune_ or Fox Spirits'; spirit guides who blend into humanity. _

_At least, this is what the Muggles believe._

_Wizard-kind know a different truth, one that relies heavily on the myths non-magical beings pass around, but diverse and more special in their own right. Werecats are rare and spectacular, yes, but no Wizard, Dark Creature, Goblin or Giant has ever seen one shift from human to feline or vice versa. It's not to say it is impossible – just that many a man would laugh in your face if you dared suggest it._

_They look much like regular house-cats, as mentioned before, although experts passionately disagree. Their insides are mapped out exactly the same, from the skeleton to the blood-vessels, but made of noticeably thinner muscle and bone, giving off a waif-like appearance. Their ears are grossly un-proportional, little tufts of hair adorning the tips and fur sleek and somewhat reflective. _

_Many borderline-Dark and Forbidden potions include the bone marrow, saliva, teeth and claws of the werecat. _

_Temperamental wise, they are said to be active, impish creatures, especially when the Full Moon comes around. Despite being domesticated by humans in both the Magical and Muggle community, they don't do well in closed-off spaces and need constant entertainment._

Lucius snapped the book shut, scowling. He pushed it aside to peer over the edge of his desk.

Harry mewed innocently, eyes wide and unblinking as he pawed at a mound of shredded cloth. 'How do you like them apples?' he thought viciously. 'Locking me inside and ignoring me like a piece of furniture!'

"Ridiculous," Lucius snorted, flicking back a lock of hair and standing in one fluid movement, grabbing his cane from where it rested against the side of his desk. "Not even Draco was this destructive as a small child…"

Ears perking up, Harry followed his 'owner' – insert gag – out of the study and into the dim hall, candles flickering warmly. It was only mid-afternoon, but it was pouring with rain outside and already dark. Distracted by the horrifying thought of going out in that flood, he nearly missed the turn Lucius took. Hurrying to catch up, he mourned the loss of scratching-material as they passed a particularly ugly tapestry and promised to return later when everyone was busy.

"Dipsy!"

"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir?"

"I'm going out – make sure Tempest doesn't destroy anything important in my absence."

"Yes, Master sir!" Dipsy cried, bowing low.

Harry, oddly hurt that he was being left behind when Lucius had taken him on his little shopping trips before, watched as Lucius tossed some powder into the fireplace and left for Diagon Alley. He hissed at the flames before slinking off to sulk and maybe claw at the leather sofa in the private lounge.

'Stupid, inconsiderate tosser…'

* * *

"Tempest?"

Harry ignored him, presenting the man with his arse and trotting away, nose in the air. He had been gone hours and hadn't the decency to even offer a cuddle when he returned – _not that Harry would have accepted the 'cuddle' of course!_ It was the principal that counted. And now, an hour later, he expected the werecat's undivided attention like he hadn't just up and left in the middle of their 'bonding' time.

He howled when a gloved hand came out of nowhere, gripping him around his middle and lifting him from the ground. He wiggled and clawed, but Lucius merely raised an eyebrow and set him in the crook of his elbow.

"_Stay_."

Shivering at the intense authority – and feeling a bit ill at how it made his insides quiver with pleasure – he went limp and grudgingly allowed himself to be toted around as Lucius did his nightly routine of locking up the Manor and making sure his study was neat and tidy. He didn't bother quieting his purrs when he was scratched under the chin and behind his ears, but kept his nose arrogantly poised in the air as if he had ordered the petting and the blonde Lord was merely following his orders.

After all, there was nothing like a cat to put you in your place.

He paused, however, when he realised he had never been down the hall Lucius was walking. He had explored as much as he could since arriving, but Lucius didn't like him being out of sight for long and his movements were horribly restricted to one wing of the Manor.

He started panicking – what the hell were they doing in this part of the Manor?! – but didn't have a chance to try and escape. They entered a shorter hallway with two doors on each side, decorated warmly in burgundy and cherry-wood. Lucius entered the last door on the left, muttering something in Latin to the portrait as the door swung shut.

"If you shred anything in here, I will skin you alive," Lucius threatened, briefly scowling down at him before his expression smoothed into one of vague contentment.

Harry resisted the urge to nod frantically and merely mewed in response, glancing around quizzically. They had stepped into a salon of sorts, with a very common-room-y feel with its large, warm hearth and multiple couches and recliners. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, although these looked to be non-magical. It was when they pushed through a set of large double-doors that he realised where they were.

'Oh – my – god! Is this his _bedroom_?!'

Lucius, oblivious to his internal panicking, put him down on a nearby chair and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, door slipping shut behind him. Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Harry assessed the room.

It was smaller than he would have thought, although considering it would be used for sleeping and not much else, he supposed it was the perfect size. The bed took up most of the space, smack-bang in the middle with windows and nightstands on either side of it. Silk drapes hailed like an ebony waterfall from the canopy, framing the bed and tumbling to the floor. From what he could see, the bedspread was done in the same silk, although the many pillows and the quilt were patterned in black and silver.

A bookshelf hugged one wall and a chest with a rather garish lock sat at the end of the bed, but other than that and the chair he sat upon, there was no other furniture. The closet was the door opposite the bathroom, if he wasn't mistaken.

He was about to hop down and snoop when the bathroom door swung open, steam billowing out. Lucius strode out, hair damp and combed away from his face, wearing a pair of incredibly soft-looking pyjamas.

Lucius walked to the bed, pulling the covers down and sitting, pulling a box from the nightstand and retrieving something. "Tempest," he called softly, almost crooning.

Immediately suspicious but curious, Harry hopped off the chair and inched towards the bed, hesitating at the blonde's feet. He was briefly disappointed – _Merlin, did he have to look good everywhere?! Why couldn't he have ugly feet, at least? And is that a toe-ring?_ – but was brought out of it when he was scooped up again, this time into his lap.

Something was clipped around his neck in his moment of disorientation and he jerked away, startled. 'What the fuck?!' he growled, leg waving frantically, but not flexible enough to reach.

Lucius chuckled darkly, picking him up so they were eye-level. "There. Now, you can wander around the Manor as you wish – as long as there are no visitors, of course. We wouldn't want you to be smuggled home with them."

'He _collared_ me, the bastard!'

Rolling his eyes at his undeniably furious expression, Lucius scratched him under the chin, retracting a reluctant purr. He set Harry down on one of the pillows and extinguished the candles, tucking his wand into his sleeve and moving to the middle of the bed.

Pausing in his internal rant on being collared like some pet, Harry realised something.

Lucius was going to sleep.

With him.

In the room.

_In the same bed._

"Remember," Lucius warned, voice slurred slightly. "_Skin_. _Alive_."

Harry huffed quietly, but couldn't keep the indignant expression up for long as he went back to his panicking thoughts. He hadn't even been in Lucius' rooms since arriving and now they were sleeping in the same bed?! True, he could sleep on the chair or find a way to sneak out, but he was sure there were wards around the doors to alert Lucius if anything or anyone tried to get in or out.

Laying down awkwardly on his designated pillow, Harry was stumped.

His 'owner' was already asleep it seemed, mouth parted ever-so-slightly and pale lashes brushes his cheekbones. Harry couldn't help but notice how his face seemed to soften the deeper he slept, making him look years younger than his already surprisingly youthful appearance. How old was he, anyway? Older than his parents and Snape, he was vaguely sure.

A sweet, pleasant scent suddenly assaulted his sensitive nose and his eyes widened. Was that his _hair_? Merlin, mmm, _strawberries_…

He giggled silently.

Lucius abruptly shifted and he held impossibly still, watching as he turned over and almost curled up. His hair washed over the pillow, dangling off the edge in little waves.

Unable to help himself, Harry inched closer and settled against his back, warmth immediately seeping into his fur. With the sweet, subtle scent of strawberries in the air, he drifted off into dreams of a gorgeous, silver-eyed snow leopard.

**TO BE CONTINUED... **


	4. Defying

**17 April, 1996**

"_Tempest_."

Internally pouting at the scolding tone, Harry stopped clawing his cushion – crimson velvet and _very_ posh – and settled down, head on his paws and eyes half-mast as he watched his owner work.

He didn't even bother thinking the inverted commas anymore.

Lucius had been having a 'lazy' day – he got up at eight, read in bed with a mug of coffee until nine and then wandered around the Manor without a particular destination, fiddling with things and even checking on the horses before dragging himself to his study and sorting through that day's mail. Most of it was business and Ministry-stamped, but right at the bottom were two letters that confused and pleased Harry.

The first was from Narcissa – he had been shocked to learn Lucius had separated from her, although he supposed if he were Draco he wouldn't shout it from the rooftops either. Separation and divorce weren't frowned upon in the Wizarding world, but it wasn't common either and especially not among the Pureblood circles. He had only gotten a peek at the elegant writing, but from what he could tell it was only an update on her life and her travels through Wizarding Europe. It was all very…_friendly_. Like something he'd send to his parents or Moony and Padfoot during the school-year.

Lucius seemed satisfied with whatever else it said and penned a response, surprising Harry once more as he signed 'Yours, Lucius' instead of his usual 'Lord Malfoy'. After spelling the ink dry and tucking the message into a crisp envelope, Lucius moved onto his last letter.

'_Dear Father,_

_Sorry for not writing sooner, but I was busy with exams and…_'

Draco, Harry realised with a sinking feeling. He had forgotten Lucius had a son.

Wow, did that sound as bad as he thought? Probably.

Still, he couldn't stay mad at Draco for being such a prat when Lucius took such obvious in pleasure in conversing with him. His expression was relaxed and unguarded, eyes shining with an emotion he didn't recognise – humour? Indulgence?

…love?

Cringing, Harry shook himself out and hopped off the desk, for once not minding that his exit went unnoticed. He wasn't _jealous_, he could only handle so many feelz is all.

* * *

Startled awake, he wondered what had roused him.

Lucius was still lying on his side, arm tucked under his pillow and heating charms still in place, so Harry couldn't have been asleep for that long. He blinked, moving to cuddle closer when a wave of _something_ washed over his head.

Jumping unsteadily to his feet, he practically tripped over the duvet, wobbling like a drunk. He tried to meow, panicking, but all that came out was a strangled hiss and Lucius didn't even stir. A sudden _crack_ split the silence, but Lucius only frowned slightly and wiped his mouth before settling back down into sleep, ignorant to the happenings not a few inches from his face.

Harry whimpered, gaping at his crooked leg. He clawed at the duvet, trying to drag himself closer to his useless bed-mate when another of his bones snapped and he jaw unhinged with a silent howl, vocal cords trembling with the strain. He was thrown off the bed, body hitting the floor with a worrying _crunch_.

'Fuck, fuck, FUCK!' he thought furiously, vision swimming before his eyes and senses clogging, unable to feel anything but his bones and muscles ripping from their system and twisting into something new.

Terrified, he was swallowed by oblivion.

* * *

When he came around, it was to the horrifying revelation that something was _horribly_ wrong.

Harry scrabbled for purchase, body creaking and groaning with pain and he panted, hunching on the floor. Unruly hair fell into his eyes and he flinched, falling backwards and dumbfounded, could only stare at his very _human_ hands.

"I'm…normal?" he croaked, diving for cover when he heard the bed creak and a soft snore. Heart thumping in his chest, he waited for a moment before rising and peeking over the edge of the mattress. Lucius was still asleep.

Breathing erratically, he grabbed the quilt from the bed and wrapped it around his aching body, stumbling to his feet and sitting on the trunk heavily. He couldn't leave the room with the wards, but he didn't think waiting here for Lucius to wake up or waking him himself was a good idea. He was naked, weak and defenceless in his school nemesis' sprawling house with no way out and no allies.

Sucking in a deep breath, he climbed to his feet and watching the bed intently, inched towards the bathroom. The tiles were icy against his bare feet, but he ignored it and gently closed the door, sighing when candles flickered to life on their own.

Dropping the quilt and padding towards the full-length mirror, he winced at his appearance, brushing his hair back. He looked as if he hadn't eaten a proper meal in months, bones jutting out awkwardly and skin pulled tight, complexion waxy and almost wearing in some places. His face wasn't much better, eyes shadowed and bruised and mouth cracked; hair hanging in clumps.

"Gross," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing nervously over his shoulder. The room was soundproofed, but he couldn't help but think Lucius would walk in at any moment.

Deciding to risk it – he _was_ a Gryffindor, after all – he moved to the bath and turned the taps, waiting for it to run hot before putting the plug in and dumping in half a bottle of bubble-bath. He regretted it after a moment, worrying that someone would notice, but the bottle filled back up immediately. "Rich bastard," he muttered distractedly, shivering as he waited for the water to rise. When he couldn't wait anymore, he climbed over the side and sunk into the water, groaning in pleasure as the heat seeped into his aching body.

He hadn't much liked water in his cat body, but right now it was _heaven_.

After simply soaking for a few minutes, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling; mentally steeling himself.

_What the Hell is going on?_

He had long ago accepted he had been turned into a cat – there was little he could do about it and he could have ended up in a worse place than Malfoy Manor. He ate high-quality food, got to laze around all day and got to observe the enigma that was Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. He _wasn't_ comprehending, however, how he had suddenly turned back. If there was one thing he knew about magic, it was that accidental spell-casting was dangerous and he wasn't stupid enough to think he would just turn back and trot happily back to his old life.

_Oh no_, there was a catch.

Brow furrowing, he tried to think. He hadn't heard the spell or recognised the wand-movements, but he had been turned into a very rare Magical Creature – a _Werecat_. Would the spell only mimic the appearance or was he, essentially, a Werecat on the inside and outside?

If so, then the books were right. Despite similar names, Werecats weren't like Werewolves and didn't turn on the Full Moon – it was the _New_ Moon.

Cursing his luck, Harry slid under the water, eyes scrunched shut.

And then there was the fact that it was backwards. Despite everything and the differences between them, wouldn't it be more logical for him to turn into a cat and not the other way round?

Surfacing, Harry wiped the water from his eyes and rinsed his hair before pulling the plug and standing. A towel appeared on the edge of the bath and he stepped onto the non-slip mat, drying himself off and revelling in the soft material. It was as he was pulling the quilt from the floor and wrapping it around his body that his back arched, spinal cord shattering into a million pieces.

Screaming, he crumbled to the floor, writhing as every bone in his body was broken. Eyes rolling back in his head, he barely heard the lock jingling as the door was forced open.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	5. Tender

**17 April, 1996  
Continued**

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Lucius sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up, wincing when his feet met the cool stone.

"Master, sir, there be someone in the Floo!"

"Yes, yes!" he hissed, glaring at the House-elf as he crossed the room. He pulled a suitable robe from the closest and shrugged into it, half-heartedly trying to fix his hair before just tying it back and disappearing into the adjoining lounge-area to answer the call.

Dipsy made a worried noise, fixing the duvet and folding it down before glancing around for anything else to clean up. He was a nervous elf and tended to straighten things up when anxious.

About to leave, he noticed the bathroom door was sealed shut. Suspicious, he crept closer and pressed his long ear to the wood but heard only his own heartbeat. Trying the handle, he frowned when it seemed to stick and shook it.

Glancing over his shoulder he wondered if he should alert his Master, but thought better of it and pushed a little magic into the frame before yanking the handle down again and nearly tumbling inside as the door gave way with a groan.

Blinking owlishly, he looked around the unusually warm room and squeaked in horror when he noticed the shuddering body of Tempest, his Master's pet. The cat-like creature was making little hissing noises, twitching and shivering before suddenly stopping. Horrified, he rushed closer to see if it had died.

Tempest mewled pitifully, making him sigh in relief. Gathering the quilt-encased werecat, Dipsy made to leave the room when he noticed the used towel and little puddles of water.

Had Tempest had a bath?

Pushing the ridiculous thought away, Dipsy Vanished the towel and water before extinguishing the lights and hurrying out of the bathroom.

* * *

"I heard he was missing, but he's still not turned up?" Lucius said, incredulous. "Where would the foolish boy have gone?"

"Merlin knows," Snape rolled his eyes. "For all we know, he went for a walk and got kidnapped by some rampant fan-girls."

"Hm."

"Dumbledore is considering sending everyone home early if he isn't found within the next few weeks."

"Two months early? Seems a bit silly to me," Lucius sneered. "And if some students were involved? You're just letting the perpetrators go, aren't you?"

"You and I know that, but the old man's convinced it was some outside force. I'm surprised no-ones accused my Slytherins' of foul play yet."

"I'd like to think they wouldn't stoop so low – and if they did do it, hopefully they were smart enough to employ some underprivileged Hufflepuffs. How is Draco doing, then? There's still another week of exams, yes?"

"Yes. He still has Potions and Defence, I believe. I have no doubt he'll pass both exceptionally well."

"Very good," Lucius said, pleased. "If that was all? Isn't it rather late – or should I say, _early_, for Floo calls, Severus?"

"Yes, yes. I was merely doing as Dumbledore asked. Goodnight, Malfoy."

Lucius bid his goodbyes and stood from the carpet, brushing off his knees. Stretching, he blew out the candles and moved back to his bedroom, frowning when he found Dipsy still there.

"What ar—is that Tempest? What's wrong with him?"

"Dipsy doesn't know!" the elf cried, wringing its hands. "Dipsy found him on the bathroom floor!"

"What? Why didn't you call me?" he hissed. "Bloody hell – leave! Go!"

Dipsy rushed away, whimpering.

Lucius huffed, crossing the room and peering down at Tempest. He didn't look to be in good shape at all – 'ill' was the only word he could think of to describe it. His left back leg was twitching every few seconds, tiny chest heaving with every breath.

"Tempest?" he called softly, gently placing a hand on the kitten's head. The werecat meowed quietly, flinching from his touch before stilling and rumbling a muffled purr.

Unsure what to do, Lucius tucked the quilt around him tighter and went to the nightstand, pulling a small wooden box from the drawer. He Transfigured his hair-tie into a syringe and measured a few millilitres of his own brew of a pain-relief potion before putting the box away and sitting gingerly beside the bundle of material that held his pet.

He gently pried the tiny jaws open and squeezed a few drops of the potion onto a sand-paper tongue, sharp eyes taking in the reaction. Tempest struggled half-heartedly, but swallowed convulsively. He quickly administered the rest and let go, watching for any signs of allergies or rejection.

Tempest blinked slowly, licking his lips a few times before seeming to go to sleep.

Turning the syringe back and setting it on the nightstand, he cast a few diagnostic spells on the snoozing kitten, but couldn't find anything wrong except for a sudden exhaustion and stiffness in the bones.

Shaking his head, Lucius put the bundle beside his main pillow and lay down to go back to sleep.

It was too early for this shit.

* * *

When Harry awoke, the sun was high in the sky.

Groaning as much as a cat could, he wiggled out of the quilt wrapped around him and shakily got to his paws. He walked across the duvet and was about to jump off when a hand grabbed him by the middle.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Lucius said, raising an eyebrow as he brought the surprised creature to his face.

Harry thought his heart might've stopped for a moment. Half-heartedly swiping at the blonde's nose, claws retracted, he hissed to be let go. It was as he was being set back onto the mattress that it hit him.

'_Holy shit, did he see?!_'

But Lucius seemed normal, although he seemed to be staring at him a bit too hard. Was he merely suspicious? He _did_ faint on the bathroom floor.

"Come on then," Lucius said, apparently done with his evaluation. Scooping him up into the crook of his arm, Lucius closed the bedroom door and left the private lounge, most likely heading for his study.

Harry sighed, feeling safer than he could ever remember.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	6. Reality

**21 April, 1996**

It was easy to carry on as normal after the 'incident', but it never did quite leave his mind. Would the same thing happen in May? Would he be able to stay in his human form for more than a few hours?

Lucius was keeping him closer than before too – understandable, but annoying. He couldn't wander off to abandoned parts of the Manor and the bathroom door was locked when they went to bed.

Harry was _horribly_ bored.

"Tempest?"

Ears perking up, he lifted his head and peered over the arm of the sofa. Lucius stood in the doorway of the study, hair pulled back in a braid and dressed in formal black robes. His snake-cane was gripped loosely in his hand, trailing sleeves nearly hiding the extravagant signet rings on his thumb and middle finger.

Confused and a little awed at the intimidating appearance, Harry hopped from his perch and mewed questioningly. 'Why are you dressed like that?'

Lucius smirked, crouching to pick him up. "We're making a visit to the Ministry," he said conversationally, holding him so they were nose-to-nose. "You can watch as I make some drones cry and then we're going to have tea with Snape – he was most interested to hear I had acquired you."

Harry settled on a broad shoulder, held in place by the flared collar. He purred in response, before the rest of the sentence clicked.

'_WHAT?!_ _You're surrendering me as _that_ sadist's test-subject?!_'

* * *

When Lucius said he'd make the personnel cry, he wasn't joking. He practically stormed the Ministry, tearing into Aurors and the other staff about everything and anything. Their hair, the neatness level of their desk, their job, their marital status – but funnily enough, never their blood.

_Everyone_ knew exactly what Lucius Malfoy thought about blood-purity and the onslaught of muggle-borns coming into the Wizarding world, but in all the time Harry spent with him, he'd never made one dodgy comment. He sneered and rolled his eyes, but it was as if he didn't care as much as people liked to think.

Or, perhaps, he just wasn't playing all of his cards at once.

That sounded more likely to Harry, as horrible as it sounded. While he didn't believe in all that nonsense, especially with his mum and best-friend in the picture, he had come to understand [reluctantly] that Lucius _did_ and there wasn't much he could do about it except ask that no nasty comments be made in their pr—

Blinking wildly, Harry shook himself from his thoughts. What was he thinking? Lucius would never be _in_ their company to begin with!  
He tried to ignore the sudden depression that darkened his mood at the more than likely admission.

"Mr Black – a word, if you may?"

Harry froze, mind whirling to a halt as he heard a very familiar voice answer – rather grudgingly, he might add. Peeking out of his little burrow between Lucius' neck and robes, he was met with a heart-racing sight.

His godfather and father both stood a foot away, expressions cautious as they talked to his owner. He didn't know what they were talking about, didn't care as he felt a wave of guilt and sorrow wash through his body. They both looked pale and sleepless, visibly tense and standing closer together than socially acceptable.

He had thought about his parents a lot in the few weeks he was 'missing', but only now did he really see how distraught they probably were. His mum would be beside herself and Moony…Moony would be taking even worse care of himself than usual, worrying like the mother-hen he was but keeping it in and trying to comfort everyone else.

Mewing softly, he curled back inside his burrow and closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do.

* * *

Pinching some powder from the jar, Lucius' thoughts were far away as he readied to Floo to Hogwarts. He had felt Tempest perk up when he came across Black and Potter, but the kitten did nothing but stare before settling back down without his usual hype. His was a happy, energetic Werecat and it was always evident when he was feeling low.

Shaking his head, Lucius called out his destination and stepped through. It was best not to make mountains out of anthills.

* * *

"Severus. How are you?"

"Surviving. Sit, I'll have tea brought through," the Potion Master replied. "How was your little raid?"

Lucius quirked an amused little smirk, perching daintily on the offered chair. "Oh, as well as ever. Made a few ex-Hufflepuffs cry."

"Of course you did," Snape muttered, sitting in the opposite seat. "And Narcissa? How is she nowadays?"

"Well. She just finished her tour of the vineyards in France if I'm not mistaken, and moving onto another retreat in Belgium."

"Another of her Witch Weekly coupons?"

"Possibly – I honestly stopped listening after she make it clear I wouldn't be paying for a thing."

"Oh? I thought she had stopped using your vault since the separation."

Lucius shook his head, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "She has, but I wouldn't put it past her to sneak some gold out for the more ridiculous purchases."

"Like a Werecat?" Snape retorted silkily.

"Hn. I could always take him home, if you feel he's so ridiculous…"

Harry, who had been listening half-heartedly to their conversation, poked his head out of his burrow and clawed down Lucius' chest with a yawn. He settled on his lap and brought a paw to his face, grooming himself apathetically. He had learned he wouldn't be undergoing any tests, so he wasn't bothered about being seen.

Briefly, he noted the surprised and almost interested look on his professor's face, but ignored it after a moment. He had escape-plans to think of.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	7. Blueprints

**25 April, 1996**

Harry finally had some alone time, seeing as Lucius had been called away for some Ministry meeting. He was sitting on the blonde's hand-crafted desk, pawing at files and making a mess – mostly because he could. It was fun to piss the stuffy idiot off.

Pushing away his amusement, he looked around the neat study with wide eyes. He needed to find blueprints or a map of the Manor before Lucius came back.

Hopping onto the nearest chair, he sat back shakily on his hind-legs and studied the wall-to-wall bookshelves. There must have been something in—aha! Grinning as much as a cat could, he quickly calculated a path. It was risky and probably fatal if he fell, but there was no easier way and he _needed_ those plans.

He loved being able to laze around all day doing nothing and not responsible for anything, but he missed his family and friends and felt extremely guilty for not even trying to get away since arriving. He would miss Lucius and the manor when he left, but he'd regret his families pain more.

Sucking in a deep breath, he leapt from the chair.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy?"

"Speak," he ordered sharply, not bothering to look up. He was royally pissed off at the incompetence shown at today's meeting and he wasn't afraid to let everyone know. Without his quick thinking they would have been made a fool of by the Russian officials.

"A-an owl arrived for you, s-sir!" the rookie stuttered out, thrusting a letter towards him.

He took it gingerly with gloved fingers, raising an eyebrow when the rookie remained in his office expectantly. "Scram," he said silkily.

The boy squeaked and fled, door slamming shut behind him. Lucius rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, shaking his wand from his sleeve to cast the proper inspection spells. When the results came back negative he chose a silver penknife from a left-hand drawer and slid it under the seal. Plain, inexpensive parchment fell from the envelope.

'_Lord Malfoy,_

_I was given a Werecat this week from a mysterious source and thought you'd be interested in coming to look at it. It looks to be fairly young and has a horrible temperament, though the last one did too and you've not brought him back…'_

Leaning back, Lucius raised incredulous brows. Another Werecat? And in the same location as the last? That didn't bode well. He skimmed over the rest of the letter, sneering at the arse-kissing near the end. Still, it wouldn't hurt to go and _look_…

Putting his wand in his cane and shrugging on his coat, he warded his office and left for Knockturn Alley.

* * *

"Was that Malfoy?" James asked warily, brows furrowed as he watched the blonde Apparate just outside the Ministry building.

"What about him?" Sirius groused, rubbing his eyes.

"I don't know…did you see that cat he had with him the other day?"

"The little thing with the huge ears? Yeah, kinda ugly, really. Seems like something he'd go for."

"Don't you think it's strange for him to be carting around some ugly cat?" James rolled his eyes. "He's never done that before."

"He had that owl in school. Used to go with him everywhere out of classes," Sirius said thoughtfully. "What's the point of this, mate? You want an ugly cat?"

"No! I just…I don't know. I'm just tired, I guess."

* * *

_"TEMPEST!"_

Startling awake, Harry fell from his perch and onto the carpeted floor. Shaking himself off from head to tail, he slinked around the desk, making his face as innocent as possible when Lucius' furious expression came into view.

He stood in the doorway of the study, face red and eyes narrowed into slivers of pure ice. His mouth was pulled tight, jaw twitching as he took in the shattered ornaments, spilled books and splintered shelf. Seeing Harry, he whipped his wand out and cast a furious spell, petrifying the quietly smug cat before he could escape.

Harry was literally frozen with shock. He couldn't move any part of his body, not even his eyes, and was stuck watching as Lucius hissed to himself, dusting off books and repairing most of the ornaments. Two vases, however, refused to mend properly and fell to pieces the moment he tried to pick them up, spilling the greyish powder they had contained.

Lucius took in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling, seemingly counting to ten before conjuring two tubs and scooping the ash into their own containers. When everything was relatively cleaned up, he wiped his hands on his pants and called an elf to clean the rest, grabbing him roughly from the floor on the way out. He was carried to the bedroom and dumped on the bed, left petrified as Lucius stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

"Meow?"

Harry would have jumped in surprise if he could, but incidentally the only thing that conveyed his shock was the stuttering of his heart and a mental flinch. Something warm and furry nuzzled along his flank, a cold nose burying itself in his neck and snuffling over his face.

"Meow?"

'A cat?' he thought fearfully. 'What the fuck?!'

The little body wiggled away from his a moment later, apparently losing interest. It hopped around the bed like some kind of jumping bean, mewing and purring at nothing in particular. He caught a flash of ebony fur, a few shades darker than his own.

The bathroom door cracked open and Lucius locked it behind him before moving across the room to hang up his over-robes and put his boots away. A flick of his wand and Harry was free.

Trembling with the sudden release of his muscles, he climbed to shaky paws and looked around suspiciously, nearly rearing back when he saw a smaller version of himself cuddling up to Lucius' leg. It purred like a train-engine, tail twisting and coiling in the air.

"Mew?" he asked, crawling back when livid eyes landed on him. "M-meow?"

Lucius pointedly ignored him and picked the kitten up, donning a dressing-gown before leaving the room in a whirl of silk.

Harry stared wide-eyed at the vibrating wood, feeling suddenly very cold and alone.

He had really fucked up this time.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	8. Green

**2 May, 1996**

He deserved it – he knew he did, but it still stung. Watching Slut get _his_ share of cuddles and love was like being hit with a Cruciatus curse – well, that was exaggerating and he'd never been under the spell, but if he had to guess he would say that's what it felt like.

Ah, the wonders of teenage angst.

Glaring at the attention-whore from his perch, Harry was plotting the creature's demise. He had no idea why Lucius would even _think_ bringing in another cat was a good idea, but it _had_ to go and soon. He was ready to toss the little whore of a werecat from the highest window in the Manor.

It stuck to Lucius like glue, begging cuddles and purring like a bloody tractor. And Lucius let it! He _encouraged_ it, calling Slut to sit on his lap and letting it go into the bathroom with him when he was having a bath. _Harry_ had never been allowed to do that!

Well – _once_, but he had knocked over everything in sight and nearly jumped into the water with h—

Oh.

Hopping off the chair – he had been evicted from the bed since Slut arrived – he padded over to the nightstand and jumped up, carefully climbing onto the bed. He peered down into Lucius' troubled sleeping face, feeling rejected and guilty.

He had been making unnecessary trouble since he arrived – he had considered it retribution for being treated like an animal with the stupid collar – and now, after pushing Lucius to the breaking point, he didn't know what to do. He _knew_ he should be focusing on his escape and this was the perfect time; he was practically ignored and oh look, Lucius had already bought a replacement, but he couldn't just leave like this. It was like having a row with a friend right before you were due to leave for an undecided amount of time.

Mewing pathetically, he pawed at a cheek before carefully curling up in his 'burrow' – the spot between Lucius' neck and shoulder, usually under his pretty-smelling hair. Lucius didn't even stir and he settled in for a quick nap.

He didn't notice storm-cloud eyes closing again.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	9. Curious

**12 May, 1996**

Slinking in from the gardens, Harry made a bee-line for the kitchen. He was starving after his little run around looking for somewhere to escape from and some spring water wouldn't go down badly either. Squeezing past two elves, he glided into the kitchen.

And promptly froze.

A growl rose in his throat, fur sticking up on his spine and fluffing along his tail. Slut was eating from _his_ bowl, completely unconcerned about the other set of bowls on the other side of the counter. The kitten paused, glancing over his shoulder before going back to eating.

Jaw nearly dropping at the _audacity_, Harry lurched forward. He skidded across the tiles, swiping threateningly with his claws and knocking Slut side-ways. Slut rolled to his feet, shaking himself out and mewing questionably, eyes wide.

Hissing, Harry made to strike again but was grabbed from behind by the scruff of his neck. Struggling, he howled and tried to swing himself free.

"Naughty kitty!" Mousy squeaked, shaking him slightly before tossing him out the nearest window. "No fighting!"

Stunned, Harry could only watch as the window was sealed again. Slut hopped onto the counter, pawing at the glass.

Shakily getting to his feet, Harry hurried under the nearest brush to collect himself before he did something he'd regret – like killing the little whore.

* * *

He waited an hour before sneaking back inside, heading for his hiding spot in the parlour despite the gnawing hunger in his little tummy. Curling up and feeling absolutely miserable, Harry didn't even bother entertaining the thought of Lucius reaching in to pet him when the patriarch walked past. He noted the dress-robes and the pretty rings, but turned his head away with a small huff when Slut trotted into the room.

He did look, however, when the floo blazed and a familiar git stepped through. Surprised, Harry raised metaphorical eyebrows as Draco dusted himself off and straightened his jacket.

"Father," he greeted with a small smile. "Is mother here yet?"

"No, she's running a bit late. Are you ready?"

"I need to change my shoes. I'll be back in a moment."

Curious, Harry waited a moment before following Draco from the room. He didn't actively keep track of time, but he thought it was the fifth – a date that didn't really mean anything to him. He trailed after the blonde at a distance, briefly annoyed when he had to keep hurrying to catch up when he made an unexpected turn.

Entering the same hallway as Lucius' quarters, Draco didn't hesitate before throwing the first door open and entering as if he owned the place. Which he probably did. The door didn't close all the way so Harry snuck in after him, briefly surprised at the appearance of the rooms. It was all very…messy, almost. Something a teenager would have control over. It wasn't chaotic, but it wasn't as spotless as Lucius' rooms either.

He hopped up onto the nearest chair, looking from the bookshelves to the little corner dedicated to Quidditch things. The paintings were all frozen, though he didn't doubt they couldn't see or hear him.

The portraits in the Manor were all sneaky like that.

Draco exited the bedroom with a shrunken box he assumed contained his school shoes. Shiny black lace-up boots replaced his loafers. He paused suddenly and Harry looked around, confused, when he realised Draco must have been staring at him.

His surprised expression smoothed out. "Oh, you must be Tempest. What are you doing in here?"

He mewed in response, absently licking his paw. He might stay in here…who knows what he could uncover…

That thought was quickly forgotten when a pale hand reached up and grabbed him around the middle. He hissed angrily, but was ignored and held against a firm chest.

"You can't stay here," Draco announced, closing the door behind them and walking down the dim hall. "Father tells me you like to ruin the furniture and I rather like my things the way they are. You're pretty cute, though."

Slumping in defeat, Harry allowed the petting. He was in dire need of attention – desperate enough to purr for Draco bloody Malfoy, anyway. Despite having grovelled as much as a cat could, Lucius was still ignoring him and favouring Slut.

"How come you're not sticking to father like glue, hm? The other one was like a little badge or something."

'He hates me.'

"I guess I wouldn't want to be near him when he's being fawned over either. One of the reasons I've never asked for a sibling – you get forgotten. It was meant to be a friend for you, wasn't it? Must be pretty annoying."

'Whoa…back up. Slut was meant to be my _friend_?!'

Harry cursed his inability to communicate, though there was little he could have done anyway as Draco walked into the parlour and set him down on the sofa. He scuttled away before Lucius noticed, ducking under a table.

"Mew?"

'Shoo!' Harry growled, baring his fangs when the idiot didn't leave. Dejected, the kitten slinked away. Harry rolled his eyes, refusing to find the act cute. He watched the two blonde men disappear through the floo, thinking.

He had considered it before, but shook off the thought when he realised Lucius was genuinely pissed at him for ruining the study. Days had passed, however, and the reaction hadn't been nearly as bad as when he destroyed his leather recliner.

…was Lucius _trying_ to make him jealous?

* * *

"What's with the kitten?" Draco asked casually, glancing over the menu as they waited for his mother. "It seems pretty clingy."

"It was neglected by its previous owner, I think," his father replied. "They're naturally affectionate creatures and it seems to think I'll disappear if it's not constantly by my side."

"That's…sad. The other one, Tempest, is strange. More like a normal cat, anyway. Seemed unimpressed when I took him out of my room."

"He was in your room?" Lucius asked sharply. "When?"

Surprised, Draco frowned. "When I was getting my shoes – he came in after me, I think. I had left the door open."

His father was silent, shaking his head after a moment and returning to the wine-list.

'He looked…worried,' Draco thought to himself. His mother arrived then and he stood to greet her with customary hug and kiss, soon forgetting about Tempest and the strange look on his father's face altogether.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	10. Plans

**16 May, 1996 **

He had done it. He was going home.

Harry hurried across the garden, ducking under the brush and crawling through the first half-open window he could find. His heart was racing, breath leaving his chest in pants.

"Tempest?"

He froze at the sharp tone, shrinking away as he caught a glimpse of Lucius' suspicious expression. He mewed softly, inching in the other direction.

"Come here," Lucius said after a moment, crouching and holding a hand out expectantly.

Surprised, Harry wasn't sure what to do. He had noticed a slight change in the way Lucius was treating him – not quite like how they were before, but he wasn't being completely ignored anymore. He turned around and went to him, slowly, sniffing the offered hand before tentatively licking his finger.

Slowly, the hand turned and wrapped around his middle. He was settled into the crook of the blonde's arm, the familiarity of the gesture not lost on either of them.

Harry purred quietly, feeling suspicious and guilty at the same time. He wondered about the sudden change of heart, but he was also aware he'd be leaving soon and he should probably take what he can get.

"That Potter boy is still missing," Lucius said conversationally, walking towards the study.

Eyes wide, Harry tried to control his breathing. What was he—?

"Since exams are over, Dumbledore has asked that the students be taken home. Of course, not everyone can just leave like that, but Draco will be coming home. It's his birthday soon, too…"

Lucius didn't say anything for a while afterwards and Harry was starting to worry. Was he considering giving him, Tempest, to Draco as a present? A random thought, but it had crossed his mind multiple times since Slut appeared. Would he be passed down?

Pushing the thought away, Harry decided to just enjoy his time with Lucius for the time being. He had found a way out, but there was still the issue of him being a _cat_ – he needed more time to plan. He couldn't just show up at his parents' house without the ability to communicate.

**TO BE CONTINUED… **


	11. Unexpected

**17 May, 1996**

Watching Draco unpack his trunk was a lot more interesting than one would think. Harry sat on a chair adjacent to the bed, absently cleaning himself as Draco chattered on about everything and anything as he put clothes away and organised his school supplies on his desk.

He had an interesting room too – not silver or green, like he expected. There was a large bed set against the side of the room along with the closet and bathroom, with his desk on the right side. Drawings, photographs and abstract paintings were strewn across the walls, seemingly without a pattern, though Harry thought it might have made sense in Draco-land. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books and crap. Two chests filled with what he assumed to be old toys sat at the bottom of the bed.

"You're a lot easier to talk to than half of my friends."

Looking up, blinking, Harry met Draco's half-amused, half-bitter expression. "Mew?"

Shaking his head, the blonde turned back to sorting through random things at the bottom of his trunk – chocolates, letters from his parents and some discarded coins. "Sometimes it's like no-one ever hears what I'm saying…Greg and Vince are okay, but they're not great conversationalists and Pansy only hears what she wants to hear. It's been better with Blaise around, but…"

Harry winced internally. He'd never really thought about it, but Draco _was_ pretty intelligent so it was probably hard to talk about half of the things that interested him with his group.

"Never-mind. Oh! You'll never guess what happened in Hogsmeade! That Chang girl – she was in this scandal love-triangle with Potter and the Hufflepuff Seeker – got into a catfight with Weasley! It was hilarious!"

Harry had a hard time keeping his jaw from dropping. _Ginny and Cho?_ "Mew?"

Chuckling, Draco shot him an impish little grin. "Everyone's been really on edge since Potter disappeared, but everyone felt better after watching them wrestle in the mud. They were screaming about how the other had obviously kidnapped Potter and that she must give him back. Not even Weasley and Granger could keep a straight face through the ridiculousness of it all."

'That does sound pretty funny,' Harry thought, trying to picture it. 'That'll be awkward when it comes out neither of them kidnapped me, though…'

"Draco?"

"Coming! Stay put, okay?" Draco said distractedly on his way past, briefly checking the windows were locked before hurrying to the floo where his mother was waiting.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stretched, yawning. It was getting dark, so Lucius must have told Draco he and Slut weren't allowed outside at night. He was briefly surprised at how much time he had spent in his nemesis' presence, though he probably shouldn't have been. He had taken a liking to Lucius, who was obviously multiple levels above his son in unpleasantness.

Glancing around, he tried not to feel too guilty. He had initially snuck in after the blonde to hide and wait until he was asleep and then steal his wand, but he had been spotted and decided to make nice. Draco had pet and cuddled him, telling him random things about his room or Hogwarts while he put off unpacking his things. Now, he was looking for the quickest escape routes and possible hiding places.

That night was the New Moon and he didn't want to turn in plain view for obvious reasons; nor did he want to pick a hasty spot and risk not being able to get out.

* * *

"Are you staying here tonight?" Draco asked uneasily, staring down at him.

"Mew."

The blonde glanced around before sighing and half-closing his bedroom door. He kicked off his slippers and climbed into bed, patting the space beside him.

Harry jumped up and padded across the duvet, curling up at his side. He felt awkward and guilty, but tried not to show it.

"Er, goodnight, I guess," Draco muttered, putting his wand on the nightstand and extinguishing the light. Wiggling to get comfortable, he turned on his side and huffed softly, closing his eyes.

It was only nine or so and Lucius only went to bed at eleven on most nights, so Harry knew he had a few hours to kill. Laying his head down on his paws, he tried to ignore the disappointment welling up in his chest.

Draco was just as warm, but he didn't smell like strawberries.

* * *

Eyes snapping open, he leapt from the bed and ran into the bathroom. It washed over his body like a tsunami, though it was more heated than painful. Like being slow-roasted – the flame was there, tickling his flesh, but never actually touching him.

Bones snapped and cracked, muscle shrinking and stretching as his skin ripped and knitted back together. It was over in under two minutes, leaving him a shivering mass on the cool tiles.

Blinking rapidly he willed himself to stay conscious, clumsily getting to his feet and leaning heavily against the wall. When his heart-rate and breathing was under control he listened intently for any signs that Draco had woken. Hearing nothing suspicious, he crept to the door and peeked into the dim bedroom, eyes immediately drawn to the sleeping blonde. He had turned over sometime in the night, now facing the bathroom door.

Sucking in a deep breath, Harry gathered his courage and slowly made his way back to the bed, eyes never leaving Draco's face. He grabbed his wand, casting the strongest disillusion charm he ever had to do on himself. He found a roll of parchment and transfigured it to look like Draco's wand in case he awoke.

Backing away towards the bedroom door, he slipped out and hurried through the little resting area and into the hallway. He made an effort to be quiet, ducking behind walls and furniture when elves passed or paintings started talking to each-other. At one point he thought he heard someone following him, but couldn't see anything and decided he was just being paranoid.

Finally, he came to the library.

He held his breath, knowing exactly how much noise was amplified inside. Slowly, he made his way down the aisles, glancing at title after title until he came to the section he needed.

_Animagus Transformation &amp; Self-Transfiguration._

Filtering his breath through his teeth, he allowed himself a small smile. Gently removing the volume that looked to contain what he needed, he crouched and lay it on the floor. He pulled up the cover and scanned the index, wand held over the page with a dim Lumos as to not draw too much attention. Skipping to the chapter entitled 'Self-Transfiguration: Cancelling Transformations', he read it carefully, not wanting to miss anything.

It was only halfway through the chapter that he realised the ceremony they were explaining was classified as Dark with a capital 'D'.

_S-h-i-t._

A sudden '_clank'_ startled him out of his horror and he quickly stuffed the book back into its place, cancelling the Lumos and curling up in the shadows.

The sound of bare feet pacing echoed through the library, making his eyes widen and heart stutter furiously. What—?

"Tempest…what have you done?"

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	12. The Deal

**17 May, 1996 [Continued]**

He was small and thin, gaunt almost, looking no older than thirteen with a mop of unruly black hair and bright, inhuman eyes. He was completely naked and apparently oblivious to it, making no move to cover his privates.

And then there was his expression.

He looked heartbroken; staring down at Harry with the most pitiful, teary eyes. His mouth was drawn tight, fanged tooth digging into his lower lip and brows furrowed.

Harry couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He felt like such an idiot – why hadn't he thought of it?! And who knew what would—

The boy couldn't take the silence anymore and laughed shakily, pasting on a watery smile. "You're unbelievable. You thought you were the only one who could change?"

"I—I thought it was the spell!" Harry argued in a whisper, tightening his grip on his wand.

"You don't have to talk so softly – everyone's sleeping."

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, stumbling to his feet. "What do you want?"

Slut ignored him, tilting his head to the side and appraising him with those too-bright eyes. He took a step forward and then another and another until they were inches apart. Harry flinched back, snapping his wrist so the tip of his stolen wand jabbed into the werecat's visible ribcage.

Slut looked shocked, staring down at the wand as if he had never seen such a thing before.

"…thief."

"What?" Harry hissed, trembling at the strange, dark atmosphere.

"You stole that magic stick – a wand? It belongs to the kitten. You're a thief."

"Draco?" he frowned, swallowing thickly. "S-so what? I needed it…"

"You're a thief," Slut repeated, as if he hadn't spoken. "A lying thief. The worst kind. And now you're trying to leave…"

Harry backed away, wand held with shaking fingers. "I h-have to! My family…my family need me!"

"They'll be sad…when you go."

"I…I know. But I can't stay here…my family are worried about me…and my friends…"

"Must be nice," Slut said softly, staring off to the side. "To have people worry about you…"

Harry clenched his teeth, skin itching like millions of little bugs were crawling all over his body. His hand was switching, threatening to drop the wand.

"I like it here…the big wizard is nice to me…why would you want to leave?" Slut whispered. "He'll be sad…he'll miss you. You could just stay here, forever…"

"I c-can't!" Harry croaked, trying to fight the sudden urge to just fall to the floor and go to sleep. He could feel the changes coming back on, crawling through his blood and leaving his body heavy as if he'd swallowed lead. "I've stayed too long as it is! I've got responsibilities…"

"Your family…they need you?"

"Yes. My mum and dad…and Moony and Padfoot…they miss me…" Harry said, reaching out blindly for something to grab onto. He fell against a bookshelf, slowly sliding down until he was on the floor. "I have to go…"

Slut fell to his knees, crawling towards him. He seemed to not feel the same pull to turn back, looking in complete control of his body and senses. Reaching out a thin hand, he brushed Harry's hair back from his face.

"I could help you…go back…" he said, eyes lowering passively. "To your family…"

Gasping, Harry grappled for his hand. Fingers clenching around the bony wrist, he pulled the boy closer. "Tell me! Please!"

He shook himself free, sitting back on his thighs and giving Harry a miserable look. "Mature Werecats can turn when they please, outside of the New Moon. I'm still young so I've only recently been able to do that…but with my blood, you could probably complete the ceremony that made you into one of us and do the same. You would be able to leave…"

Harry couldn't believe it. His heart raced in his chest, sweat pooling on his brow and sliding down his temple. He swallowed convulsively, limbs quaking. "W-why would you h-help me?"

Slut turned away from him, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. "They'll be sad…and miss you a lot…but then maybe they'll love me more?"

Harry felt the excitement drain from his body. He was reaching out before he knew it, but his hand was slapped away, furious eyes burning into his soul.

"Don't pity me! Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes…" Harry whispered, trying to push away the guilt welling in his body.

"We'll do it on the next Full Moon – I'll fetch you when the time is right," Slut said, looking nothing like the child he had gotten used to in the last few minutes. His expression had darkened, eyes taking on a slightly haunted look. He stood fluidly, hesitating for a moment before reaching down and grabbing Draco's wand from slack fingers. "I'll put this back. Go back when you've changed."

He watched the boy disappear into the darkness, vision dimming and heat simmering deep in his bones.

* * *

Shaking off the after-tremors, Harry got to his paws and weaved between bookshelves, leaving the library. He didn't care if the portraits spotted him, ducking under furniture and darting around corners. He didn't see Slut on the way back – the halls seemed to be deserted; abandoned.

He pushed the door to Draco's suite closed behind him, sighing when it made only the slightest sound. He rushed through the main room and squeezed past the cracked door, listening for a brief moment before hopping onto the bed.

Draco was still asleep, arm thrown haphazardly across the pillows and foot poking out of the duvet. Creeping across the mattress, he climbed onto the blonde's stomach and curled up.

He had never expected to have help escaping, even if it were the other's own seemingly selfish reasons, but this would be much quicker than on his own. Clenching his eyes shut, he willed sleep to take away the guilt – at least for a little while.

He knew he was doing the right thing…so why did he feel as if he were betraying himself and his new friends?

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	13. Tense

**27 May, 1996**

Harry felt as if he were waiting for his death sentence.

The days passed slowly, time dragging as if it were weighed down by lead and he was ready to tear his hair out in frustration. To make it worse, Lucius had apparently decided he had spent enough time on the proverbial couch and was acting as if nothing had changed in the first place. Draco was just as bad, practically cornering him when he wanted to vent or just pet him.

He wondered if the gods were trying to tell him staying at the Manor, pretending to be a cat, was his life goal.

Unfortunately for them and him, he wasn't very religious. Signs or not, staying was _not_ an option – at least, not until he made sure everyone knew he was well and safe. He hadn't quite figured out what would happen after that, though he was vaguely sure his parents wouldn't approve of him moving out to free-load at the Malfoys' in exchange for being their cuddly, _expensive_ pet.

And then there was Slut.

He was as cute and annoying as ever, throwing Harry for a spin. Had he _imagined_ the other werecat promising to help him escape? He was so confused – until he caught the dirty looks he was being shot when Lucius was in one of his pleasant 'sit on my lap, don't move and I'll stroke you' moods. Ah. So it had been real.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for the kitten, despite everything. Wanting him to leave so Lucius would have no reason but to love him first and foremost was pretty…_sad_. He embraced the fact that he was second best…he wanted to win and he didn't care how, even if it was because no-one else bothered to show up for the race.

Harry cringed at the thought. He kept as quiet as possible, paws hardly making a sound as they skid over the carpet. Slut had told him to go to the library at midnight – a briefing, he suspected. Creeping past the half-closed doors, he darted into the shadows and looked for the aisle they had met in the first time.

* * *

"Tempest?" Draco frowned sleepily, clumsily searching for the cat. He slid his hand over the duvet and patted the little lumps, brows drawing together in confusion when it looked like he was alone. Disappointed, he swung himself into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. Casting a quick _Tempus_ showed it was a little after twelve, so he couldn't have been asleep for that long.

Draco wiggled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He relieved himself and washed his hands, absently searching his dim room when he returned. Where had Tempest gone?

The door was cracked open, but he didn't think there was any way out since the main entrance was always sealed when he went to bed. Padding through to the mini common room, he was more than a little disturbed to note the wards had come undone. Heart speeding up, he raised his wand and crept into the hall.

It was silent and empty, the portraits all sleeping – except one. "Grandfather?" he called softly, more than a little unsettled.

"Draco?" Abraxas Malfoy squinted down at him. That particular painting had symbolised his youth, just after he left Hogwarts. "What are you doing?"

Feeling suddenly very foolish, Draco fidgeted, glancing around. "I…erm, have you seen a black cat?"

"Tonight? Yes, he just came past recently. Two, actually, when I think about it…though the other came from my old quarters. Why do you ask?"

* * *

"You're late."

He flinched, in surprise more than anything. The tone was pouty, reinforced by the sulky expression he locked on in the darkness.

Slut was leaning against the bookshelf, still naked and looking as gaunt as ever. His hair seemed longer, brushing his shoulders and shadowing his eyes.

Silence reigned.

Harry waited for the other to speak, getting impatient but not wanting to risk pissing off the surprisingly intimidating boy. Finally he couldn't stand it anymore and meowed quietly. 'I'm here now.'

Slut tilted his head to the side, staring at him with those too-bright eyes. It was a moment more before he spoke, unblinking. "The moon will be at its fullest on June first. Meet me here at exactly 01:00AM and I'll give you some of my blood. You will turn back and escape through the hole you found."

'Right.'

"I know nothing of how to…_cure_ you. You will probably have that form forever—" Slut sneered suddenly, as if the thought didn't particularly please him. "You must tell no-one of your changes. The secrets of our species must always remain so – _secret_."

'What?!' Harry hissed. 'How the hell am I supposed to explain where I've been?!'

Slut seemed to understand him, baring his unimpressive human teeth. "Tell them half-truths, you idiot! All I said was you must not tell anyone of our abilities. The reason wizards think we're extinct is because we had to go into hiding after they realised we were valuable!"

He flinched as the boy's voice rose higher and higher, resisting the urge to shout for him to shut up. Slut snapped his jaw shut, glaring fiercely at him before spinning on his heel and stalking away. "Don't make me regret helping you," he whispered, voice echoing through the library. He didn't look back, shifting fluidly into his cat-form and disappearing into the darkness.

Harry watched, fascinated. It looked like an animagus transformation – no. It was more graceful than even an accomplished animagus. He stayed in the library for what felt like hours afterwards, staring into space and contemplating their exchange. Something wasn't quite right…

Finally, he shook himself from his thoughts and trudged from the chilly room. He considered going back to Draco's room – the blonde had practically kidnapped him every night since the first – but decided against it and crept into Lucius' instead.

Slut wasn't there, to his surprise. His scent was there, fresh, yet there was no sign of the other werecat. Shrugging off his concern, Harry jumped up onto the bed and cuddled up in his 'burrow'. He only had so much time left…he would repay the blonde's generosity in snuggles.

* * *

Draco could only stare, eyes wide in shock. Slowly, he backed away from the bookshelf and fell into a conveniently placed chair.

What the hell had just happened?

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	14. June First: Part I

**A/N: Check the poll on my profile for news on a sequel! And wow, no-one likes Slut ^^; I do...**

* * *

**1 June, 1996**

There was a strange atmosphere surrounding the Manor.

Harry awoke the morning of June first with a little shudder and a feeling like icy fingers squeezing his heart. He couldn't deny being excited to see his parents again, though the anxiety was greater than the relief. He was jumpy too – the slightest sound sent the fur along his back and tail fluffing up in a ridiculous imitation of a porcupine and he was suddenly aware of things he wouldn't have ever noticed before.

Like how Draco permanently looked as if he had seen a ghost. He was paler than usual, constantly chewing on his lower lip and his left thumb nail despite Lucius' reprimands. Lucius didn't seem too concerned, probably why he didn't take any notice at first, so he tried not to think too much about it but it was still strange.

The troubled blonde barely spoke to anyone, though he did randomly burst into Lucius' bedroom the morning before, pale and clammy and looking extremely guilty. Startled, his father had drawn his wand, lowering it and snapping angrily when he realised it was just his son.

Draco stammered out something not even Harry with his super-hearing could understand, eyes widening and mouth clamping shut a moment later before he fled.

Crawling out from under the covers, Harry yawned and watched groggily as Lucius exited the bathroom. In nothing but a towel.

Harry gaped, nearly falling from the bed when the blonde dropped the towel as if he did it for a bloody living. He stepped into a pair of pants and buttoned up his trousers – they were of higher quality than usual, he noted dimly. Not that Lucius wore anything cheap – oh no, don't misunderstand – it just looked like something he'd wear to the Ministry or a gala.

Suspicious, Harry pushed away his embarrassment and tried to ignore the _thump-thump-thump_ of his little heart. "Mew?" 'What's going on?'

Lucius barely gave him a second glance, straightening his emerald-silk cravat and pulling on one of his more expensive robes. "I can't play now, Tempest. I have to leave soon."

Annoyed, Harry sniffed and left the room. He initially went off in search of Draco – he came up with the best games – but got bored of looking and slunk into Lucius' office. Hopping up onto the blonde's desk, he curled up on some important-looking papers and absently batted at a stray quill.

Sighing, he tried to keep the twitching in his leg to a minimum. He was excited and anxious and scared – what would he tell his parents? Did he dare tell them about his time in the Manor, sleeping in Lucius Malfoy's bed and acting as his pet?

He felt distinctively ill thinking about their reactions.

Laying his head down, he tried to take his mind off what would be happening that night. Very briefly, he realised he hadn't seen Slut at all that morning.

* * *

Shivering, wand clutched tightly in his hand, he tried not to show he'd heard the snapping twigs or the crackling of crushed grass. Swallowing thickly, house in view, he sped up. Keep walking, keep walking, he chanted to himself, keep walking, keep walking, keep—SHIT!

Draco stumbled back, nearly losing his footing completely as the bright-eyed creature popped up before him without so much as a sound. He gasped, eyes wide and heart hammering in his chest.

The creature glared at him, chin tilted defiantly. "You followed me. Why?"

Draco paused in his panicking, eyes narrowing as he saw the quiver in thin fisted hands. He stood straighter, feeling more confident than before. "Who—_what_ are you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the creature hissed, looking suddenly how Draco had felt seconds before – cornered; scared. "You saw us."

"What I saw made as much sense as finding a naked boy in the garden," the blonde growled in reply. "You're the kitten, I know that! What game are you playing?"

"Game?" Valentine took a step back, hands flexing continuously at his sides. "You should be asking _him_! Planning to abandon Master but hating _me_ for getting the slightest attention from him!"

"Master? You mean my father?"

"Who else?!"

"Who is the other werecat?" Draco demanded, shaking off how disturbing it was for a little boy to be calling his father such a thing. "Why can't he turn like you?"

"I don't know his human form!" Valentine insisted, crouching on the grass and burying his head in his knees. "He wasn't born like that…it was one of your Wizarding things that turned him…"

Draco didn't know what to say or think. He kept his wand ready, watching the distressed boy for any signs of deception. He knew he should have told his father, but he didn't know how to act around 'Tempest' – if the werecat was a spy and Draco let on that he knew, then what?

He hadn't wanted to risk it…especially not if his father knew more than he was letting on.

* * *

Frowning, Lucius stared down at Tempest. The werecat had flounced off in a huff and now he was laying all over the documents he needed for his meeting with the other department heads. After a moment he sighed and plucked the cat from the desktop, ignoring the indignant yowl that erupted from the shocked cat. He gathered his documents and set Tempest back down, smiling at the thoroughly unimpressed werecat.

Turning on his heel, he ignored the little voice in his head telling him to stay and left the study.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	15. June First: Part II

**A/N: Check out my poll for news on a sequel!**

**Warnings: For the squeamish out there, there is blood and blood-drinking in this chapter. Though, you should have expected it from the previous chapter's mentions of it. **

* * *

**1 June, 1996 [Continued]**

He was speechless.

"This isn't a good idea," Slut insisted, never quite meeting his eyes. "It's dangerous – we don't even know the original spell! We should just talk to Ma—!"

'Are you insane?!' Harry hissed. 'Lucius will _kill_ me! You can't just back out – obviously, I know this isn't ideal and to be frank, drinking your blood sounds disgusting, but what else can I do? Nothing!'

"You're being silly! Master will understand!"

'_Understand_?!' Sucking in a deep breath, Harry puffed out his chest out aggressively. 'Look. You don't like me. You want me gone. Right?'

"…"

'Right?' he meowed, getting worried.

"Right! Fine, whatever!" Slut dragged a hand through his hair, practically ripping out a chunk. "Fine, fine…"

Harry pushed away his worry and doubts, shaking off the urge to ask why the kitten had changed his mind all of a sudden. He hopped off the cabinet, peeking out into the hall. It was going on seven, the sun already set and fireplaces bursting to life in every room for light. Slut had caught his attention and motioned for him to lead the way to somewhere quiet where the elves weren't likely to come through.

'I'll see you tonight,' he said firmly before running off, heading for his favourite room in the whole manor – Lucius' bedroom.

It sounded a bit creepy, especially since he didn't even like his _own_ bedroom as much, but he had long ago accepted the blonde Lord had probably fed him compulsion potions. Multiple times. That river, tho'.

Squeezing through the cracked door, he leapt onto the bed and settled down on 'his' pillow; gently kneading the material before curling up to wait. Lucius would be back soon.

* * *

He was startled out of his snooze when the mattress bowed slightly under a new weight. Confused, he blinked away the dregs of his sleepiness and spied Lucius at the end of the bed untying his shoes. Mewing, he got to his paws and padded across the duvet to snuggle into the man's side.

Glancing down, Lucius scratched him briefly under the chin before returning to his task and standing, shrugging off his robes as he walked towards the bathroom.

Harry trailed after him, hovering by the door to see if he'd be kicked out. Lucius said nothing, however, so he slipped inside and jumped up onto the counter. The bath was turned on, sweet-smelling bubbles squeezed into the water and a glass of wine ordered from an elf.

When Lucius started undressing, Harry finally _realised_ what was going on. He hurriedly looked away but didn't move, knowing it would look strange for a cat to be considering his privacy. He waited impatiently until he heard a soft, slow sigh and he focused back on the blonde.

The water came up to his chest, hair pulled up into a hasty bun and expression content. His right arm rested along the lip of the bath, manicured nails idly tapping against the porcelain in an unfamiliar rhythm.

Cautiously curious, Harry hopped down from the counter and went right up to the bath, stretching up so his front paws rested against the edge. He purred, leaning up closer when long fingers rubbed along his jaw and under his chin.

It was still slightly embarrassing to be reacting in such a way, but he knew even if it were someone like—_Snape_ petting him, his 'purr-alert' would still go crazy.

Or, that's what he told himself…

An elf he didn't recognise popped into the bathroom, bottle of wine and a shiny glass on hand. The cork was shimmied out and a generous amount poured and offered before the wrinkly creature bowed and left.

The scent wasn't all that appetising to Harry, rather sour actually, but Lucius seemed to enjoy it. He looked completely relaxed, visible flesh glistening with water and what _nice_ flesh it was.

Harry tried not to think about how much he wanted to climb into the bath beside the blonde Lord.

* * *

When the water started cooling and there were no more bubbles to chase around the bathroom, Lucius started preparing to get out. Harry studiously refused to look again, no matter how curious he was. He sat by the door, pawing and meowing at it to make it look as if he merely wanted out and wasn't absolutely mortified at the prospect of seeing him – Lucius – naked.

Next was dinner, something he was more than happy to attend. Slut joined them, though he ignored both of them, tail flicking irritably in the air as he ate.

Harry found himself begging at Lucius' plate, something he only really did when there was bacon around – the Malfoy elves made some good bacon. He supposed he might as well give it one last hurrah, it being his last dinner at the Manor.

Lucius gave in, surprisingly. Hand-fed him bits of chicken and eventually just pulled him into his lap, allowing him free-reign over the leftovers as he perused some kind of document.

It was as Lucius was getting ready for bed that it really hit him.

_He was leaving._

Lucius, the Manor, Draco, Slut…he was going somewhere they couldn't follow. He would go back to his family, somehow assure them he was absolutely fine, most likely be locked up for the rest of the summer lest he be miraculously teleported away and then go back to school with his friends.

It was how it was meant to go…and yet he felt as if someone had just died.

"Tempest?"

Harry mewed despondently, rather subdued as he climbed onto the bed and burrowed under the blankets to be flush against Lucius' back. The lights were turned off and Lucius tucked the duvet around them, seemingly asleep within minutes if the soft snoring was anything to go by.

Harry breathed in strawberries, the spicy scent of whatever incense Lucius was burning that night and the pure warmth from his 'owner's' body; closing his eyes and trying to make the moment last.

* * *

When one o'clock finally came around, Harry wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Trying to calm himself, he slithered out from under the duvet and waited a moment, fearing he'd disturbed the blonde's slumber.

Lucius remained as he was though, breathing softly and curled on his side. Harry was horrible at goodbyes; he could only stare for what felt like hours before finally deciding to just go in for it.

Inching closer, he brushed his head along Lucius jaw-line, darting out his tongue and licking a thin stripe. It was the closest thing he was going to get to a kiss in this form. He held stock-still when Lucius shifted, but his snoring resumed a second later and he sighed quietly in relief.

Carefully getting down from the bed, he ducked out of the bedroom and then the sitting room, too preoccupied to question why the door was unlocked and open.

Portraits were still chattering away to each-other so he stuck to the shadows, paws nearly inaudible to even his own ears on the carpeting. He arrived at the library in record time, little heart threatening to jump overboard.

The doors creaked open and he slipped inside, shivering slightly at the eerie atmosphere. He heard the soft rustling of pages being turned and snuck towards that aisle, uncertain as to what he'd find.

Slut, apparently. The other werecat was sitting cross-legged on the floor, books of all shapes, sizes and colours surrounding him in a semi-circle.

'You can read?' he asked before he could help himself.

Slut looked up, expression indecipherable. He looked paler than usual, eyes shuttered. "No. I'm just looking at the pictures…"

How did one respond to that?

After a very awkward moment Harry approached the hunched boy, sitting down and unsure what to do. Slut closed his book, setting it aside and climbing to his feet.

"I'm going to cut my hand," he said quietly, voice haunting. "You don't need a lot…just some, and think really hard about wanting to transform back."

Harry couldn't help but think he hadn't thought this through. Think really hard? Still, he was a Gryffindor and it was worth a shot. Nodding, feeling slightly ill, he watched as a sharpened nail was dragged across the smooth flesh of his palm.

Slut winced and stuttered, stopping when blood flowed freely from the wound. He shoved his hand towards Harry, crimson streaks dripping down his wrist.

Stomach turning, Harry jut out his tongue and gathered as much as he could before swallowing, silently screaming for that to have been enough. The coppery taste stuck to his mouth like glue, seemingly getting thicker the more he tried to get rid of it.

A sudden heat washed over his body and he just barely kept from yowling his pain and waking the Manor. Bones crumbled and muscle stretched and retracted, building up slower than he remembered of the other times. Finally, he was himself again, clutching at the floor and trying to catch his breath.

"It worked," Slut breathed, eyes wide and glimmering with unshed tears.

_He was back! _Harry stumbled to his feet, flinching when something hit the floor with a _crack_.

The collar.

Blinking stupidly, he couldn't wrap his head around it. He didn't remember what happened to the stupid thing during his other transformations…did it just re-attach itself or had Lucius assumed he had gotten it off and just put it back on?

Shaking his head, he grabbed the collar and studied it in the dim light of the library. It was a length of black leather and lined with velvet, an emerald serpent encrusted on the material with a bell set between where the head and tail would meet. He had never heard it jingle, so he assumed it was silent.

"Take it," Slut said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, about to put it in a safe place when he realised he was completely naked. Flaming red, he didn't have any time to stutter an apology for his nudity – something that vaguely confused him, since Slut was naked too – before what looked to be a set of black robes were thrust into his hands.

"I…_borrowed_ it from the kitten," Slut said hurriedly, looking ashamed of himself. "Send it back when you're finished with it…I don't want him to be mad…"

Speechless, Harry nodded and shrugged it on, doing up the buttons. He felt a sudden urgency to _get out of there_, heart speeding up and hands shaking with what he could only imagine was adrenaline. "I—I need to go—"

"I know," Slut replied in a strangled voice. "I made sure the back left window was left open so you can get out from there, okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered, inching away. "...thanks…"

Slut didn't say anything more, merely staring after him with huge, teary eyes. He looked as if he wanted to reach out but didn't dare let himself.

"See ya," he muttered, turning on his heel to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. "See ya…Valentine."

* * *

He was running, collar clutched in his hand and bare feet crunching over grass and undoubtedly murdering flowers. He ducked under bushes and had to climb over a particularly stubborn tree. He felt the blood on his body – splinters in his hands, cuts and indents on the soles of his feet, gashes on his legs from where the robes either ripped or blew up as he ran and allowed twigs to maim him.

He was two seconds away from diving through the hole in the wards when he heard a _snap_ behind him. Spinning so his back was against the wall, he frantically searched the darkness for whatever had been following him.

Emerald met eerie silver and he felt the breath leave his body as if someone punched him in the stomach.

Lucius said nothing, wand held loosely in his hand and glowing softly. His expression was drawn and hard to read, hair pulled back into a ponytail and dressed in what looked to be his pyjamas with a pair of boots and a cloak thrown on top.

Harry couldn't speak. His mouth opened and closed, the words getting stuck in his throat. He wheezed shallowly, hands trembling.

Lucius took a step forward and he flinched, pressing himself flush against the wall. The blonde continued until they were a metre apart, eyes drawn to the collar he was clutching like a life-line.

The answer hit him like a ton of bricks. _He can track me with it_, he realised giddily. He wanted to throw the stupid sign of ownership in the trash and never look back, disgusted, but couldn't pry his fingers open to drop the leather.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when the _Lumos_ flickered and died, wand moving with an incantation he didn't recognise. He tried to move out of the way of the spell, body clumsy with adrenaline, but was enveloped in some kind of light.

He waited for pain—for _something_, but it never came. _Reeek_. His eyes snapped open as the wall shuddered and suddenly parted, two slabs of stone swinging away from him like concrete doors to reveal an empty lot overgrown with plants.

"Wha—?!"

Something whistled in the air towards him and he just caught the plain silver ring before it hit him in the eye.

"It's a Portkey. It'll take you to muggle ghost-town near Diagon Alley. Just say 'Abanods'."

Wide-eyed, he looked up to see Lucius' back to him, walking into the darkness. He wanted to scream for him to wait, to just _hold_ _on_ so he could understand, but all that came out was a shattered, "I'm sorry…"

He thought he saw him pause, but soon lost sight of Lucius altogether. He heard the same _reeek_ from before and stumbled through the wards. The concrete-doors slammed shut behind him and smoothed out to look like one continuous wall.

Harry activated the Portkey.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	16. Wavering Denial

**2 June, 1996 **

He stared blankly into the tumbler of amber liquid, idly swishing it around every now and then.

He had expected it, counted the days until this moment would arrive and he could go back to his normal life…but the feelings of rejection and self-pity were stronger than he had considered in his wildest imagination.

He wondered how long he had been sitting there, brooding. He was alone with his melancholy – Valentine didn't dare approach him so soon and Draco was still gathering his courage to talk about the 'intruder'. He knew he should have talked to his son about it already, but there was something exciting about being the only one who knew the details of the situation. As if he were special.

"Father?"

He didn't look up as the shaky whisper permitted the silence, merely inclining his head in acknowledgment. It was early, perhaps a little after three, though he wasn't sure. All he knew was that the fire had dwindled significantly since he last looked.

Draco crept around the cracked door, hesitating briefly at his desk before sinking into the closest chair with a small sigh. He said nothing at first, picking at a loose seam on his sleeve and seemingly debating how to start the conversation. Finally, he settled on a breathy, "…you knew?"

"Not the whole time," Lucius replied evenly, taking a swig of his whiskey. It burned on the way down, giving him the urge to cough and alleviate the annoying sensation.

"Oh." Then, quietly, "…how long?"

Lucius sighed, glancing at his son from the corner of his eye. "Days after bringing him here I noticed he was…different, from other animals. I knew there was something wrong so I monitored him, but I only realised it was – could have been – Potter, recently."

"…_Potter_?"

It was choked out, barely supressed anger pulsating from the one word. Lucius sat up straighter, sharp eyes jerking to meet his son's half-astonished, half-bitter expression.

"_Potter_ was Tempest?"

"You didn't make the connection." It wasn't a question.

"How could I have?!" Draco yelled before snapping his mouth shut, shrinking back in his chair. He averted his eyes, paling considerably, but didn't apologise.

"What did you think, then?" Patiently. Coolly.

"I…I don't know, I thought it – _he_ – was just some guy, a spy maybe! Not _Saint_ bloody _Potter_…How did he get like that, anyway?"

Sighing, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin knows with that boy. He was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time, like always."

"…probably…"

Dipsy appeared then, relighting the fire and bowing deeply before popping away. The silence crackled with unasked questions, neither speaking – until Draco noticed something strange.

"Where did Grandmother and Grandfather's wand ashes go?"

Lucius didn't bother looking, knowing his son was regarding the empty space where his parents' wand urns – ten-inch traditional vases – had once stood on his main bookshelf. The tradition was seemingly lost among modern Wizarding society, but it had been in his father's Will and he knew how much it had meant to him, so Lucius had had his right hand and the wand so often found in it cremated like the old books said. Not a particularly nice tradition, hence the decline in popularity. Despite not having access to the corpse, Lucius burned his mother's wand as well – he knew his father would have appreciated the gesture, even if he never had the guts to do it after she disappeared. He knew his mother was dead, no matter what her 'Missing Persons' case-file said.

"Potter knocked them over and shattered the urns. I'm having them repaired." He said it carelessly, as if it happened all the time and Harry hadn't practically spit on his parents' graves.

"…oh my god. You're in love with the sod."

Brow twitching irritably, Lucius downed the rest of his drink.

Neither mentioned how he never bothered to defend himself or deny the ridiculous accusation.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	17. Withdrawal

**A/N: Check out my poll for news on a sequel! Though, I'm not sure what could I write for the sequel...hmm...  
I think I'm getting too enthusiastic with updates ^^; Maybe I should wait a couple days in-between the next chapters...**

* * *

**August 23, 1996**

"Harry? Are you awake?"

"…yeah, mum, I'm up. I'll be down in a moment."

"Alright. Don't take too long – your friends are coming over soon."

He didn't reply, staring blankly at his bedroom wall. He didn't doubt he looked like shit, though it was amazing what a few creams and a Pepper-Up could do for a person. Pealing the duvet from his body, he dragged himself out of bed and somehow managed to enter the en-suite bathroom; bare feet protesting immediately at the cold tiles. He didn't bother looking in the mirror; he turned the shower on and started brushing his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the image that popped up in his mind. He tried not to count along, scowling when he still ended up doing exactly twenty circles on each row. Rinsing his mouth out, he shucked his clothes and got into the shower, wincing when the scalding water assaulted his already-fragile body.

He started washing immediately, soaping up his hair and then his body before merely standing there and waiting for the suds to dissipate under the torrent. All he wanted to do was sleep and maybe write another letter he wouldn't have the guts to send, but his parents had been exceedingly over-protective since he found his way back into the 'nest'. They left him to himself, mostly, but he was required to see a therapist on Dumbledore's orders twice a week and had to see his friends whenever they saw fit.

_Had_ to.

He wanted to appreciate their concern, he really did, but when he was suffering constant insomnia and wasn't able to eat more than a cat's portion of food, he was a little irritable. He was hungry and tired and he just wanted to be left alone with his misery, dammit! It _wasn't_ rocket science!

Shutting off the water, Harry stood there for a brief moment before sighing shakily and wrapping a towel around his waist. He dried his hair quickly, wiping his face and neck dry with the same towel as he approached the mirror.

Grimacing, he opened the over-head cabinet and took out his daily doses of cover-up, leaving the potion. His complexion looked relatively normal by the time he was done, though he still looked as if he'd pass out at any moment.

"Harry, covering it up doesn't make the problem go away."

It was said in a soft, tired voice; even if he hadn't noticed Remus come in he didn't think he would have been startled.

Screwing the lids back onto their respective jars, he took his time answering. "I know…but I can pretend, can't I?"

Silence met his words, but Remus hadn't slipped out like he expected after a good five minutes. When he finally looked up he met sad brown eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling the way you do, Harry. Just like there isn't anything wrong with feeling the way _he_ does."

"I don't want to talk about this," he choked out, gripping the edge of the sink in numbing fingers.

"Alright," Remus soothed, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder despite the initial flinch. His grip was warm and slightly coarse. "Get dressed and then you can have breakfast, okay?"

"…bacon?" he asked unevenly.

"Bacon." Remus promised.

* * *

He knew something was wrong the moment he entered the kitchen. Everyone save Remus was seated, sipping coffee and exchanging weary glances around the unopened letter sitting in the middle of the table. The atmosphere was sort of like the one at Christmas – except no-one wanted to open the presents.

"Is that Dumbledore's yay or nay on my returning to Hogwarts?" Harry asked tiredly, taking his seat. He didn't see why they were so scared of the contents – it wasn't like he would be expelled or something.

"Yes," Remus replied, setting a plate in front of him. It seemed everyone else had already eaten.

Smiling gratefully, Harry buttered a slice of toast and nibbled on the edges. "Well…are you going to open it?"

"We were waiting for you," his father said needlessly before reaching out and taking the envelope. He ripped the seal off and shook out the letter, grimacing as he scanned over the text.

"Well?" his mother demanded after a long, silent moment. "What did he say?"

"…he said after talking to Harry's therapist and looking over the Pensieve memories again, they have decided it will be alright for him to go back for the next term. They've got a lead on the group who attacked him…and he'll have to make up the missed work with a tutor…"

"Who's the tutor?" Sirius asked, noting his slightly disturbed tone.

James shook his head, reading over that particular paragraph again. "Snape, apparently."

Harry dropped his fork. _Oh, shit_.

His mother took his shock for revulsion, frowning disapprovingly. "Don't be like that, Harry! I know you two don't get along, but he is an intelligent man and it wouldn't hurt to have some extra lessons with him."

'That's not the problem!' he wanted to argue, biting his tongue at the last minute. This was bad! _Bad, bad, bad! _He couldn't care less who tutored him, it was the fact that the old bat _knew_ he had been Tempest that horrified him!

_"I thought just using the Pensieve was fine," Harry said weakly, shrinking under Snape's glare._

_Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard. "There is only so much information we could get from those memories, my boy. With_ _Legilimency, we could gather other information that may have made itself known before or after the incident. Any clues would be helpful in finding these people."_

_"But—!" He didn't want Snape in his mind! Who knew what he would find?! And what if he recognised him?! What if he called Harry out on his lies?!_

_"Harry," Dumbledore said firmly, frowning. "Severus will not look at anything not related to the incident and if he so happens to see something private, he has already taken a Wizarding Oath not to reveal it to anyone – including myself."_

_"Isn't this illegal?" he insisted, paling horribly. "I'm a minor!"_

_"For the love of Merlin, boy! I'm not going to purposely look for memories of your masturbating material! Just think about the incident and every thought that has any significance to it will automatically be brought to the front of your mind."_

_'That's what I'm scared of!' Harry bemoaned. Finally, he nodded, knowing he couldn't win. He stood shakily, doing as Dumbledore instructed and forcing himself to look Snape directly in the eye._

_Raising his wand, Snape entered his mind with a simple 'Legilimens'._

_It was horrible – painful and invasive and mortifying. He barely stayed on his feet, thoughts revolving around how he didn't want Snape to know—he forcibly blocked the end of that sentence, dragging everything to do with the 'incident' to the forefronts of his mind like a shield of images, thoughts and emotions._

_Everything was visible – the fear and pain he felt lying on the forest floor, the panic when he was shoved into a bag and left there for what felt like hours. His ire and helplessness when he awoke in that dodgy pet shop, his relief and excitement when he saw Lucius—Snape reared back, sending Harry to the floor with the force of his retreat._

_Wide black eyes bore into his soul, mouth opening and closing without a sound. Finally, his expression hardened and Harry knew he had been found out._

"Harry?" Remus asked, concerned.

"Nothing," he said automatically, stuffing some bacon into his mouth despite the painful churning in his stomach. There was nothing he could do.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	18. The Ring: Part I

**A/N: Since I've gotten a positive response on doing a sequel, I'll be doing a poll with the options of what it'll contain. Check it out!**  
**The next chapter will probably be the last before the epilogue - but don't quote me on that. This story has run away from me!**

* * *

**31 August, 1996 – 1 September, 1996**

_He packed slowly, mind racing from one thought to the next in a whirlwind of worry and excitement. He wanted to go back, see his friends and take his classes and be _normal_, but he was also dreading the irrefutable moment he'd see Draco and have to pretend he hadn't slept in his bed or listened to him rant and worry about everything and anything. He wasn't too keen on seeing Snape, either. _

_"Harry?"_

_"Come in," he called distractedly, folding a pair of uniform trousers and stuffing them in with his other clothes. His mother had attempted to help him but got frustrated halfway through and went to start on dinner instead. He wasn't bothered, it happened every year. Smiling to himself, he heard the door click shut and the mattress squeak as Sirius sat down next to his open trunk._

_Peering inside, he raised an eyebrow and smirked at the semi-neat piles of clothes, school supplies and other crap he thought he'd need through the year. "You moving to another country or something?"_

_Rolling his eyes, Harry pulled a face. "I might need this stuff!"_

_"Sure thing, cub."_

_"Don't sound so sarcastic!" he huffed, half-heartedly shoving Sirius' shoulder. His godfather flopped backwards, lacing his hands on his stomach. He was silent for a few minutes, expression unusually seri—er, grim—not playful and/or joking._

_"What is it?" he asked carefully, folding his Weasley jumper with more care than his other stuff. "You can talk to me, Sirius…"_

_"Shouldn't I be saying that?" Sirius sighed, smiling wearily. He closed his eyes. "Are you glad to be going back?"_

_"Yeah," Harry said slowly, unsure where this was going. "I love Hogwarts and I missed it…I'll worry about you guys, though…"_

_Snorting and sitting back up, Sirius gazed at him with searching eyes. "Your mum wanted you to only go back after Christmas – are you sure you're ready, cub? What about everyone? What are you going to say?"_

_"I don't know…" he sighed. "Tell them the truth?" Or the version I gave to you guys, anyway. "Word has probably already spread, anyway…"_

_"We just don't want you to feel pressured, cub," Sirius said, catching his hand and squeezing it. "Obviously, if this is something you want, we'll support you."_

_Harry stared, surprised, into honest grey eyes. It wasn't that he was shocked at the words or the support, but Sirius normally didn't like to talk about feelings or, well, _this_. Immediately, he wondered what had happened to make his godfather decide to approach him. He felt guilty for trying to find an underlying message in the love and kindness, but he couldn't help himself._

_Idly, he realised he had probably adopted some of Lucius' quirks. _

_When the silence stretched on and he hadn't found a lead that wasn't ridiculous, he smiled wanly and nodded. "Thanks, Siri…"_

* * *

Playing with the chain around his neck, Harry stared out the compartment window. He had gotten there an hour early so he wouldn't have to deal with more people than necessary and while it served to get him on the train mostly unnoticed, he was _horribly_ bored and had taken to thinking about all the horrible scenarios that could happen while he was at school. Not the most fun he'd ever had, but it kept creeping back into his thoughts.

"Harry?"

Blinking, he looked up as the door slid open and Hermione poked her head inside. Smiling, she asked, "Mind if we come in?"

"Course not," he said, sitting up straighter and moving his copy of the _Quibbler_ off the seat and onto his lap. Hermione came in, followed by Ron and Ginny. They all took their usual seats, some form of entertainment under their arms.

Ron had a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and some kind of comic book, Hermione carried one of her usual thick reads and Ginny was sporting the latest issue of Witch Weekly. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, though the atmosphere was tenser than any of them would like. They fell into a slightly-uncomfortable silence in which Harry returned to watching the unmoving scenery and Ron stuffed his mouth in hopes of busying himself.

"So," Ginny said brightly. "You must be excited for the new term – I heard you had to get a tutor, though."

"Yeah," Harry replied with a distracted half-smile. "Snape."

"Snape?!" Ron choked, thankfully having swallowed his sweets. "Tough luck, mate!"

"I guess," he shrugged. "There's not much anyone can do, so I'll just try to study hard and get outta there as soon as possible."

"That's the spirit!" Ginny grinned. "When do your lessons start?"

"Tonight. I have to go every night until curfew, after dinner."

"I think this will be a good opportunity for you," Hermione said, peering at him over the top of her book. "You never know, this could help you achieve top marks on your make-up exams and—what is that around your neck?"

Harry froze, mind going blank. Ron and Ginny automatically started searching for the thing in question, expressions twisting into shock when they finally spotted it.

Hanging around his neck on a thin silver-spun chain was the Portkey Lucius had given him. He hadn't seen it as anything special, it looked like a normal, cheap silver ring, but the moment Remus saw it he couldn't keep any more secrets.

_"H-Harry…?" the werewolf choked out, eyes wide and face unusually pale. _

_"What?" he asked, scared. "What's wrong?"_

_"Where did you get that?" Remus demanded shakily, pointing to the ring on his bedside table. _

_"…um, I—I found it," he stuttered, confused. Why would—?_

_Remus frowned deeply, looking at him with something like defeat. "Don't lie to me, Harry! Do you know what that is?!"_

_"No…?"_

_"It's an engagement ring, silly child!" he said, exasperated. "A _Pureblood_ engagement ring."_

_"What?! No, it's just a normal—!"_

_"Have you put it on?" Remus countered._

_Shaking his head, horrified, Harry picked it up and slid it onto the designated finger. Nothing happened and Harry relaxed, the sudden panic that had built up fading slowly. _

_And then the ring came alive._

_It flared with pure magic, encasing his hand in a crackling warmth. It melted, dripping down his finger before breaking up into slivers of silver and circling his flesh. It writhed and knotted, dragging itself into various patterns before apparently finding one it liked and freezing into that form, almost painfully hot against his skin._

_"Oh – my – god," he whispered, staring wide-eyed at the newly-formed ring. It looked exactly like the pattern from his collar, a delicate serpent that coiled around his finger with a small emerald gem for the eye, looking directly up at him._

_"I'll ask again – where the hell did you get that from?"_

Remus didn't want him to get any ideas, but he couldn't help but take the ring as something symbolic. Had Lucius chosen it carefully, hoping he would see it for what it was and not just some Portkey? Still, there was nothing he could do at that moment. Lucius may have meant for him to see some underlying message or he could have just tossed him an already-made Portkey.

Regardless, he refused to part with it. He took the original pendant off the chain and attached the plain-again ring and he hadn't taken it off since. Hermione – and Sirius, he suspected, now that he thought about it – was the only one to notice, however.

"Harry!"

Shaking off the haze, he faced his horrified friends. "It's a ring," he said airily.

"That looks like—"

"It's a muggle ring," he broke in sharply, forcing himself to look out the window. The train was getting ready to leave the station, engine rumbling. "Charmed for protection or something, from my mum."

He felt bad for lying, but they couldn't know. Not yet.

* * *

It was tense in the common room. People gawped at him from all angles, whispering and pointing. Hermione was the only one who seemed to see his discomfort – Ginny was still stinging from his brush-off and Ron had been called in to talk about Prefect duties with McGonagall.

"Just tell them," Hermione said finally.

"Fine," he grumbled, catching Seamus' eye. "Gather everyone around – I'm not repeating myself."

There were a few cheers and suddenly the whole bloody house – or, it seemed like it anyway – was hovering around the sofa he and Hermione were seated on. She set her book down, wand at the ready in case anyone got too 'enthusiastic'.

"Alright, quiet!" Seamus shouted, pushing aside a few second years to get a closer seat. "Come on then, tell us what happened! Was it dark wizards?!"

"I guess," he said, rolling his eyes at the 'ooohs' that echoed through the common room. "The newspapers have been mostly right about what went on, so don't be disappointed if you already know. Anyway, what happened was…

_He was humiliated! How could Ginny and Hermione be so cruel?! Sure, he wasn't the brightest and he wasn't the most attractive, but he sure as hell wasn't dead last on the list! Ron had been ahead of him! RON!_

_Huffing angrily, he kicked an innocent rock resting in his path and felt some satisfaction when he heard it _clunk_ against a tree. Calming somewhat, he rubbed Quidditch-rough hands over his flaming cheeks. He knew they were just joking around and the last thing they had wanted was to upset him – or any other boy on their list – but their comments still hurt. Average and boring his left arse-cheek!_

_He froze, thoughts screaming to a halt when he heard an eerie howl. Looking around, he was horrified to realise it had gotten dark during his little tirade. The sun was completely gone, stars bright in the sky and wind getting chilly. He had no idea where he was – he couldn't see Hagrid's hut or an entrance on that side of the castle. There were just trees, trees and more bloody trees._

_And whatever had made that horrible noise._

_Drawing his wand and clenching it in a fist, he glanced around suspiciously and tried to look around for signs of life. He heard nothing for what felt like a small eternity and he was just about to turn around and head back the way he came when another howl broke through the thick silence._

_Flinching, he spun on his heel and searched the brush with frantic eyes. He rushed forward, ducking under low-hanging branches and jumping over a small stream. Whatever the creature was, it was in pain and he'd be damned if he just left it._

_He didn't know what he expected, peeking around a large tree and heart stuttering wildly, but it wasn't what awaited him._

_They stood in a huge circle, at least thirty of them in the clearing. They wore dark robes and hoods, hands raised and wands pointing at something in the middle of their gathering. They chanted quietly, their voices nearly inaudible over the creature's whines and whimpers of pain._

_Gasping, he stumbled backwards and tripped over something lumpy, effectively grabbing their attention._

_Shocked, their arms swerved and the spell was enveloping his body before he could even consider scrambling away._

"…after I was forcibly turned into an Animagus, they stuffed me in a bag and fled the scene. I was dumped somewhere down south and I kind of just made my way back home. Since I looked like a normal house cat a few muggles would leave food out for me or take me in, but obviously I couldn't stay there…"

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	19. The Ring: Part II

**A/N: Check out my poll regarding the sequel! **

* * *

**1 September, 1996 [Continued]**

He wasn't dragging his feet exactly – just…taking his time.

Sighing, Harry ignored the goggling students as he passed through the castle to the Dungeons. Some tried to start a conversation to no doubt ask about his 'kidnapping' but he had already instructed his House to pass the word around and that he'd know if they twisted the story. He didn't honestly think they wouldn't try to make it more exciting, though.

As he got closer and closer to the 'Snakes Nest', the excited whispering turned into stony glares and the pointing turned into pointedly ignoring him. He felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him.

He hoped he hadn't developed some sort of Stockholm-Syndrome for the Slytherins. That would cause some friction during Quidditch.

He was getting deeper and deeper into the Dungeons when it happened. He supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised – he was practically encroaching on their den and all that crap, but he wasn't prepared for their conversation. What would he say, anyway?

"Potter. A little late to be wandering around, no?"

He kept his expression as neutral as possible, heart thumping loudly in his chest. He considered just walking on but one look into familiar grey eyes and he was frozen to his place.

"Something wrong?" Draco cooed, sneering. Fear and anger twisted his expression, gaze accusing and voice husky with repressed emotion. "_Cat_ got your tongue?"

Harry felt as if his world was ripped from beneath him. He couldn't look away, wide eyes locked on suddenly uncertain ones. "H-how—?"

"Oh please," Draco snorted, crossing his arms. "_Everyone_ knows about Perfect Potter's little la-di-da around the country."

_What_? Was he mistaken? No…that expression, that tone… "You know what I meant."

Draco stiffened, mouth parting in something like disbelief. He glanced around, spying a group of lower-years peering suspiciously at them from across the hall. Scowling, he grabbed his arm and dragged him around the corner, oblivious to his struggling. Harry was shoved into the wall, head nearly colliding with the stone. He tried to push away, but Draco stepped right into his space, furious. "What the hell ar—!"

Harry, eyes previously squeezed shut, slowly opened them to see Draco gaping at him. Or more specifically, his neck.

_Fuck_.

Trembling fingers rose, curling around the chain before he could react. "I can't b-believe…you _kept_ it?"

Harry forced him away, feeling suddenly very vulnerable. He tucked the ring under his shirt, hand hiding the little tent it made, scowling fiercely. "W-what, was I meant to give it back or something?"

"You're _insane_," Draco breathed, face shadowed. He backed up, leaning heavily against the opposite wall and letting his head fall back against the tapestry with a dull _thump_. "_Fucking_…oh hell, I can't believe you two…"

He said nothing more and Harry was bursting with curiosity. He expected to get punched or maybe threatened with theft, _something_, but Draco was silent and apparently contemplating his father's sanity. "…what do you mean?" Harry asked finally.

Draco lifted his head, scowling fiercely at him. "You're both acting like bloody love-struck teenagers. It's disgusting, really. If I were you, I'd just off myself and get it over with."

"You mean—"

"_For the love of_—don't look so bloody happy!"

"Don't be such a kill-joy," Harry grumbled before he could help himself, embarrassed about his hopeful outburst but mostly amazed. If what Draco was complaining about was true…!

Jabbing a finger in his face, Draco sneered: "I'll be a fucking kill-joy if I want, Potter!" Then, with one last sulky glare, he spun on his heel and started stomping away; muttering under his breath.

"Where are you going?" Harry shouted, frantic. "Dra—"

"To sulk about how unfair my life is! First mum and her toy-boy, and now dad has one too! _Honestly_!"

Harry stood, dumbfounded. Eventually, he decided it was probably best to take that as permission and an affirmation and not think too much about what else it could have meant.

When he finally made it to his first 'tutoring session', not even the thought of spending the next two hours being interrogated could bring him down.

* * *

He knocked on the door, half-hoping Snape would tell him to piss off.

"Enter."

The tone was sharp and no-nonsense – Harry didn't dare disobey.

He opened the door and closed it softly behind himself, squinting into the dim room. It looked as it always did, though the desks were clear and it didn't smell of left-over potion fumes. Snape was sitting behind his desk reading over some kind of letter or essay, quill poised above his inkpot and expression drawn tight.

He stood awkwardly by his table, hand twisting over the strap of his bag. He waited for a long moment, unsure if he was meant to stay quiet or if he was meant to be doing something. "Er…sir—"

"Silence, Potter!" Snape growled, slashing his quill over the parchment and dragging ink over a particular sentence. He scribbled something above it and continued like that, glaring at his page and violently crossing things out and assumingly correcting them.

Harry pressed his lips together angrily, looking away. Bastard. He was already stressed about how the irrefutable conversation – screaming match – on him being Tempest would go, and now he was being made to stew until the old git was good and ready.

He didn't know how long he stood there, dozing on his feet as he waited for Snape to finish up, but by the time he was startled from his daydream his legs were aching and there was drool threatening to leak from his mouth. Scrubbing his lips hastily, he watched with outright suspicion as Snape slammed drawers and cleared his desk, eventually sitting back with his hands laced together on the table-top.

"So, _Potter_," he drawled, looking too calm for someone who had just been physically dissecting second-year essays not moments before. "I'm sure you know why you're here."

"You mean, do I know you manipulated your way into becoming my tutor?" he asked miserably. "Yes. Pointless, if you ask me, since you could just give me detention and interrogate me there."

"How strange," he replied in a steely voice. "I _didn't_ ask you."

They glared at each other silently for a long moment before Snape rose, slinking around the table to circle him like some sort of vulture. He certainly looked the part with his distracting nose and beady eyes.

"Sir—?"

"Shut up!" he hissed, hand clamping down on his shoulder and nails digging into his flesh. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them truthfully – do not forget I know exactly where to get Veritaserum. And then there's the fact that Dumbledore would be so disappointed to learn you _lied_ to him…"

Harry stiffened, eyes narrowing and teeth digging into his lower lip to keep from telling the old git exactly where to stick it. Spindly fingers dug deeper into his shoulder and he winced, nodding his reluctant consent.

Snape abruptly let him go, back to him and fingering something in his robes pocket. He seemed to be thinking, head bowed.

Harry took a step back, leaning heavily against the first row of desks. He thought he knew what type of questions would come up, though he couldn't be completely sure since it _was_ Snape and who the hell knew what he was thinking half the time.

"Your transformations…how do you do it?"

_…eh?_

Dumbfounded by the sudden, eager question, Harry stuttered out: "Er…with the moon?"

"Stupid boy, I know _that_! You've turned back: how?"

Harry shrugged uselessly. "Valentine, he gave me some blood and it completed the process – or fixed it, I guess. I just concentrated my magic on becoming human again…"

"Valentine? The whiny little thing that clings to Lucius?"

"Yes," Harry replied, briefly distracted by the question. He wondered how Valentine was doing…

"He is a real Werecat."

"As real as you can get," he affirmed, though it wasn't a question. A moment later he grimaced, slightly disturbed they were having a semi-decent conversation. It wasn't exactly what he expected – he thought, as the man's friend, he would ask about his intentions with Lucius or make sure he hadn't seen anything he shouldn't have, but he supposed Lucius was capable of looking out for himself and Snape knew that all too well. "…I don't think he'd take kindly to be experimented on, however…"

"I don't _experiment_ on creatures," Snape sneered. "I harvest whatever valuable organs or tissue they provide."

"…that sounds worse."

"As if you could understand! Potions is a very—don't distract me, boy! Now. You've spoken to Draco."

Harry leaned back a bit, eyebrows rising. "Er…yes? How did you know?"

"You weren't being subtle about it," the man snorted. "And the portraits know how well you two get along. I am warned whenever you get within a certain distance of each-other."

He could hear the warning all too clear and nodded, wincing slightly.

"What are you going to do about him?"

"…who?"

"Malfoy!" Snape growled, looking at him as if he were deficient. "Lucius is being a complete and utter brat about the whole situation – whining and sulking. Either give that ring back and get on with your insignificant life or embrace your inner Slytherin and woo the bloody man-child."

Harry automatically slapped a hand over where the ring rested, eyes widening in shock and heart skipping a beat. Snape raised an eyebrow, lifting his chin arrogantly.

"Yes, I know about the ring. It is in fact a magical artefact, you twit! I'd be surprised if the whole staff didn't notice it coming through the wards! We are made to look out for anything potentially dangerous and with the magic exuding from your person…well."

"…inner Slytherin?" he asked after a moment, voice strangled slightly with incredulity.

"Lucius wouldn't go for a complete Gryffindor – opposites attract but that really would be too different. Don't get the wrong idea now, I'm glad that that cunning was overridden by your clumsy valour. If you were put in my House I would have resigned and gone on that long-overdue holiday Dumbledore owes me…"

Harry didn't doubt it.

Still, he couldn't help but take back his earlier thoughts. Snape might not have been directly concerned about Lucius in the way he first assumed, but he cared enough to make sure he wouldn't be bothered by the _man-child's_ whining. Good Lord, he'd love to see Lucius' face if that ever came up.

"Get your things out, we'll start with Potions since you need the most help in that."

Blinking, Harry stared at him blankly for a moment before comprehending. "…is that it, then?"

"What?" Snape demanded, irritated.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything more or threaten me or something?"

"Arrogant boy. I have gotten all the information I need. Books and ink out. _Now_."

Flinching at the tone and scowling half-heartedly, Harry sat down in the front row and took out everything he would need. Snape had his own textbook out, scratching away with chalk on the blackboard and looking very much like the most hated professor of Hogwarts with his dark attire and sneer set firmly in place.

Sighing inaudibly, he mourned the loss of all his free-time. He really would have to actually _try_ if he didn't want to spend the rest of the term in the dungeons with Snape breathing down his neck.

* * *

"Harry?"

Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Luna turning the corner after him. She looked a mess, hair as neat as a bird's nest and robes and shoes gone, leaving her in the uniform pants and shirt only. "Luna?" he said worriedly, rushing to her side. "What happened?"

She blinked up at him, smiling quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"You're…er, never-mind. It's almost curfew, how about I walk you to your dorm?"

"Okay," she said, lacing her hands behind her back and glancing around the hall as if she had never seen it before. They made their way up from the Dungeons in a comfortable silence, about halfway to the Ravenclaw common room when Luna said dreamily, "How did he propose? I'm sure it was romantic – Daddy always says that if the purebloods know anything, it's how to woo someone."

He wasn't even remotely surprised at that point – Luna didn't miss _anything_. He sighed, glancing side-ways at her. "He didn't really propose…just kinda gave it to me. I didn't even know what it was until days later. Does that count as a proposal?"

She looked thoughtful, index finger tapping her cheek. "Hmm…well, it _could_ be if you were Nargles. They aren't very romantic, I'm afraid."

"Oh?" he said, amused. "Do they just shove the ring at you?"

"Exactly!" she said brightly. "You could always propose to him, if you're still doubtful."

Now that did surprise him. "What? I couldn't!"

"Of course you could," Luna frowned disapprovingly at him. "You'd just need permission first."

"But his father's dead," Harry mumbled, eyebrows raised.

"Who said anything about his father?"

"…right. Okay. If not his father, then who?"

"If you really wanted to marry him, you'd know," Luna said simply.

"Of course," he nodded along, amused, confused and slightly exasperated. "Well, this is it. Goodnight, Luna."

"Goodnight Harry," she smiled, standing on her tippy-toes to kiss his cheek. She paused there, whispering after a brief second: "Don't let the Nargles take your ring."

It was said in such a strange tone, almost conspiring, and he wasn't sure how to take it other than seriously. Luna was normally right about such things. Waving goodbye, he started down the hall after he saw the door close behind her. It was past curfew, something that should have had his heart pumping and fearful of getting caught, but the staff had been informed that he would probably be getting back to his dorm late so he wouldn't get in trouble unless he was visibly loitering. His bag thumped softly against his side and he was lost in his own thoughts.

He had tried not to think about what exactly would happen with Lucius and him – would they get together, forget each-other, be ripped apart? There were so many problems and scenarios that could play out that would just…ruin them.

He was only sixteen – recently sixteen, too. Lucius was older than even his parents and if they got together, one year from legal or not, there would be a shit-storm. And then there was the fact that they were both male – not discriminated against like he had heard Hermione talk about in the Muggle-world, but certainly not something some of the higher-ups in the Ministry wanted to be proud of. Many of the old families frowned upon it since the studies on male pregnancy proved it to be extremely dangerous and since they didn't like divorce either, it was easier to just get married to a woman – or if you were a lesbian, a man – and have children and then take lovers on the side. They didn't seem to care as much about infidelity.

He sighed. Male, two and a bit decades age difference and then social status. The Potters' were a pretty well-off, historically pure-blood family, but they had been dropped from the List and even if his parents were highly respected, no-one would see a Potter and a Malfoy getting together a good thing – especially after the War. Lucius hadn't been arrested but many people _knew_ he had been involved even if there was no evidence.

He was starting to depress himself.

Still, it was something he needed to think about. After those two months spent at the Manor, was the backlash worth it if he got Lucius? He wanted to think so, but he hardly knew the man. He had seen his day-to-day life and gotten a good feel for how he worked as a person, however after what happened at the wards he wasn't sure if all of that had been genuine. Had Lucius been actively hiding, if any, the darker parts of his life?

Absently speaking the password to the Fat Lady, he entered the common room and headed for the dorms.

"Harry? How'd it go?" Hermione called. She was sitting before the fire with their usual group of friends, reading while the others played chess or just talked.

"Fine," he said distractedly. "I'm gonna head to bed."

"Alright," she said, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No, just tired. Being around Snape is exhausting."

"Okay…goodnight."

"Night," he waved, turning back to the stairs. Once inside the dorm-room he got changed into his pyjamas and just sat on his bed, unsure of what to do.

He knew what he _wanted_ to do…but was it the logical option?

About to flop down on the mattress, he noticed something on the floor. Frowning, he picked up the slip of parchment and unfolded it, eyes widening at the clean script. It was only three sentences long, under forty words and rather vague, but it removed all and any doubt from his mind.

He knew what Luna had meant now.

He fell to his knees before his trunk and dug inside, getting out a book to press on, a muggle pen to write with and a pad of writing-paper he had gotten for official letters but never used.

He knew exactly what to do now.

**Next Chapter: Epilogue **


	20. Epilogue

**April 3, 1999**

When you thought about the Malfoy family, it was more often than not you pictured jewels and gold; beautiful paintings and antique furniture. A Malfoy got what a Malfoy wanted and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy II was more than happy to fuel this connotation.

His father had been a simple man, he did not step outside the box nor did he spoil himself – of course, this did not mean his only son didn't deserve the beautiful things that came with his name. Subsequently, this lead to a slight obsessive need to fill his life with material items…but this was neither here nor there at this point.

Humming quietly to himself, Lucius browsed greasy shop-windows as he passed through Knockturn Alley. He wasn't looking for anything particular, but he had finished up his business and had the rest of the day off. Snake-cane thrumming in his hand and werecat purring in his breast-pocket, he couldn't help feeling strangely protected – a foreign concept, but not unwelcome.

He froze, mind skidding to a halt. Slowly, he backed up in a most undignified way and gaped into the grimy window – well, as much as a Malfoy _could_ gape. His eyes were wider than usual, mouth parted in surprise.

_Was that a _Werecat_?_

Valentine wriggled out of his pocket, poking his head out the lapels of his coat and peering around, trying to see the thing that had caught his attention. When he finally spotted it, he smirked knowingly to himself and sunk back into his spot.

Lucius barely noticed the not-quite-kitten's strange behaviour, too caught up in the fact that _whoa, déjà vu?_ It was impossible, a hallucination triggered by his deepest, darkest desires and yet…it was real.

Curled up in the rusty wire cage looking rather annoyed was _him_. He was small, only about a foot in height with sleek black fur and the characteristically larger-than-proportional ears.  
It was a split-second decision, rash and very un-Slytherin-like, but Lucius refused to walk away – not again. Straightening up and wiping imaginary dirt from his sleeve, he spun gracefully on his heel and pushed the door open with the bottom of his cane.

Lucius would have the pissy little ball of fur for his own – if only to torture him for taking so fucking long in finding his way home.

* * *

_Lady Black,_

_I'd like to discuss the possibility of training under you after I graduate to become the socially ideal partner for someone such as Lord Malfoy. I won't lie, I'm horrible at everything that would be required like dancing and etiquette so it will probably take a lifetime or two, but I'm prepared to do anything – and that includes sponsoring your newest 'project'. Yes, I know all about _it_._

_Keep this in mind before deciding whether to turn me away or not._

_H. J Potter_

**THE END**

* * *

So...'Curiosity Killed The Cat' is officially done ;-;

I am sad.

I'd like to say thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites and I hope you enjoyed the story! If you have any constructive criticism for future stories or just want to pop in and say what you liked, then it'd be appreciated :D This was super fun to write and I think this has definitely helped me improve my writing, even if some things didn't add up and the chapters were too short.

Thank you!


	21. Afterlife: Prelude

**A/N: Alright, check out the sequel under the name 'Afterlife: The Tail of a Curious Cat'! Who should Draco end up with? Check out my poll!**

**Edit: NEWTs got cut off, for some reason, so I've fixed it. It originally said 'N.E'. **

* * *

**Afterlife: The Tail of a Curious Cat**

He knew it was insane – come to think of it, what was he thinking?! His head must have been as empty as Snape claimed, after all!

Sucking in a shaky breath, he calmed himself by concentrating on the rhythmic _click-clack_ of firm heels on the cracked concrete. Narcissa had hidden him in the folds of her cloak, though it wasn't nearly as comfortable as it had been with Lucius. For one, it was much squishier for reasons he'd really rather not get into and secondly, he was being engulfed by her perfume. It wasn't overpowering or unpleasant, but he didn't get a lot of fresh oxygen and the spicy-sweet scent was making his head hurt.

A _creeeek_ snapped him back to the present and he felt his heart speed up, sweat gathering under his fur. Narcissa didn't bother looking around and headed straight for the counter, most likely sneering at the grimy little store.

"Shop-keeper!" she summoned, voice firm and echoing. The animals were unusually quiet, most likely silenced by her firm presence.

Or her faux-fur coat. Who knew?

The back door cracked open and the snivelling manager peeked out, eyes widening and face reddening. Stumbling out, he rubbed his greasy hands on his equally filthy trousers and pasted on a yellowing, uneven smile. "Madam Malfoy, h-how may I be of service?"

Lip curling, Narcissa raised her chin and pulled Harry from her coat. She set him on the counter, manicured nails pinching the scruff of his neck. "_This_," she said, "is a menace. I purchased him in Belgium and haven't been able to get rid of him since."

"You wish to _s_-_sell_ him?" the shop-keeper squeaked, recognising the sleek creature as a werecat. His store was certainly a blessed one to have seen three in his lifetime!

"Sell? I have no need for whatever you might scrounge up. I trust our little transaction will remain…discreet?"

"O-of course! No-one shall know where he came from!"

"Good," she smiled coolly, pressing a handful of gold coins to the counter-top. She spun on her heel, robes fluttering gracefully around her form. "For the trouble. Good day, sir."

Harry ignored the sinking feeling of abandonment in his chest, watching Narcissa go with wide eyes. They had planned this all out, but now he felt pretty shitty about the whole thing. Howling, he scratched frantically when meaty hands wrapped around his small body.

"Insolent fucker!" the man hissed, practically chucking him into a cage after fumbling with the lock for a moment. The door was locked and the man stomped back into the back, growling over the wounds on his hands and wrists.

Harry shook himself off, baring his teeth at the man's back. Wrinkling his nose, he glanced around and saw he had been put in the exact same spot, in the exact same cage as last time. A particularly vicious-looking hawk squawked at him from its perch not inches away.

Grumbling to himself, he settled down for a [most likely] long wait. He was rather tired since being up the whole night in an excited buzz, but he couldn't sleep just yet – not when he knew Lucius could walk in at any moment.

He hadn't seen or spoken to the Lord in over three years – after graduating in 98', he had met up with Narcissa in Spain where she began drilling eighteen years' worth of etiquette and manners into his head. He wasn't a caveman by any means, but he knew next to nothing about Pureblood niceties. He supposed he could've just shown up with some NEWTs and Lucius would have been happy, but that sounded…well, like he was taking the easy way out. He wasn't sure if they would last – would Lucius even show up? – and if they didn't, then he had learned how to not make a fool of himself at a dinner party and could go on with his life. Either way, he had still wriggled out of his parents grasp and disappeared with only a few letters every now and then. He felt horrible for leaving them and not telling anybody – directly, he assumed Remus knew exactly where he was going – but it was something he needed to do for himself.

He was an only child, had been isolated until Hogwarts…he supposed what he had done was childish and stupid, but he was finally making his own decisions. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes and settled his chin on his paws.

If Lucius didn't show, he would get the twins to help him egg the Manor. Arsehole.


End file.
